Alagaesia High School
by Raudhr Blodhgarm
Summary: This is not a straight-forward fic. It is not fluff. It is not always ExA! There is some FaolinxA I mean quality , some RxK, and some SxF. No fluff! It gets better later on. No slash, no MxN, and no fluff. Basically, it's an AU HS fic. P.S. NO FLUFF! Just to let you know, thinking about a sequel. Completed and not just a piece of author vomit!
1. Chapter 1

Alagaesia High

Chapter 1: First Day of School

**Psych! You don't get a chapter yet! Yes, I know how many times this has been done, but I swear, mine is the best. At least the most accurate. In this one, Murtagh isn't all buddy buddy with Eragon. BECAUSE THEY TRIED TO KILL EACH OTHER! Contrary to popular belief, they weren't at all friends except on the first! Sure, Eragon still liked him, but no. They weren't on the same side, let's put it like that. Now, onto the story. And oh yeah, ExA, SxE (Not romantic, just super friendship), MxT (Same), and maybe some other pairings. Like RxK. ONWARDS! FOR ASLAN!**

Eragon woke to a sharp pain on his face. "What? Who?" he sputtered, and then struck blindly. "Hey! Last I checked you weren't out to get me!" A familiar voice shouted.

"Roran, I could have sworn that you've been in our room before." He grumbled as he rose.

"That makes no sense. I've slept in here for more years than I care to count." Roran replied, perplexed.

"Then why is it that you remain completely unaware that we own an alarm clock?" Eragon demanded.

"Today's a special day, you blasted fool! You forgot to set your alarm early enough!" Roran explained, quite aggravated. Immediately, Eragon began flipping through important days. Garrow had turned fifty-seven a month ago, Katrina and Roran's anniversary was a few weeks away, it certainly wasn't the anniversary of when he and Saphira had met, OH DEAR GOD! THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!

"Judging by the shocked look on your face, I'm guessing that you remember. Your first day as a junior? Sound familiar?" Roran mocked.

"Don't patronize me; I have a lot on my mind." Eragon grumbled. "Like devising a clever way to kiss Arya? That doesn't count bro." Eragon went scarlet, mumbled incoherently, and stormed out the door. "Don't blame me that you're lovesick!" Roran called after him.

Garrow was waiting in the kitchen with a bag loaded with school supplies that Eragon knew he would never need and a Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwich in the other hand.

As Eragon bumbled into the room, Garrow declared mockingly "Attitude? Check. Klutziness? Check. Lethargy? Check." Then adopting a more fatherly attitude, he tossed both the sandwich, which Eragon caught haphazardly in his mouth, and the bag, which he caught by tucking his chin to his chest at the exact moment necessary, leaving the ancient backpack dangling by one of those useless loops that are always on old backpacks.

However, Eragon soon discovered that, due to the fact that the jaw is hinged in such a way that it opens downward, chewing whilst holding his backpack in this manner was a difficult, if not impossible, proposition.

As Garrow caught sight of Eragon attempting to toss his backpack in the air by converting his spine into a whiplash device, he muttered "Don't even think about it." Eragon sighed, as best he could, and simply lifted his chin, allowing the dusty bag to fall, albeit mundanely, into his arms. Roran then bustled in, snatched his already packed satchel, and rushed out the door.

"What **is** he doing? The bus doesn't get here 'till seven O' five." Eragon asked with an air of exasperation. However, due to the aforesaid Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwich located in his mouth, it came out more like "Wha **is **ee doin? Da bus doethn't ge eer 'till sheven O' five."

Garrow glanced at him and explained "He's decided to walk to school. Heaven knows why, doesn't make any sense to me."

A broad grin was about to split Eragon's face when he recalled the seemingly mischievously inclined sandwich in his mouth and decided against it. The purpose behind the nonexistent smile was that Eragon couldn't help but suspect that it was a design to see Katrina. Rather clever of Roran, he thought, and then amended, at least compared to his other plans.

"So, Dad, what are your words of wisdom for today?" Eragon inquired, referring to Garrow's deep-seated tradition of sending his sons (True, Eragon was adopted, but they couldn't have been closer if they were related by blood) to important events with a few words of advice. Sometimes they were as simple as "That orange shirt clashes with your pants. Change." Or as deep as "If an ailment is so great that you cannot bring yourself to laugh about it, then you are on Death's Door".

Garrow sighed and intoned "A man that can make a simple thing complicated is a clever man. A man that can make something complicated simple, he is a genius." Eragon glanced up in surprise. He had been under the impression that Garrow was running out of sayings, but this one was new.

"Well said, Dad." Eragon replied simply, and for a moment they shared a moment of content. Then a loud honk notified Eragon that Brom, the bus driver/ gym teacher, was waiting for him.

"Bye!" Eragon yelped, and barreled out the door.

Brom hurled a small pebble at him and hollered "I don't care if you're having a special moment with your girlfriend, get in the **** bus!" Brom was strange that way. He cursed without restraint, and didn't hesitate to refer to "awkward" subjects. He was also renowned for his sharp aim with an eraser, which came in handy during "awkward" lectures. Most students had learned not to giggle during such lectures. Occasionally a wayward snicker would escape, shortly followed by a whistle similar to that of an eraser flung at high speeds. Almost identical, in fact.

The pebble bounced off of Eragon's head, but he didn't notice. He was a tad bit busy staring at the lone girl that sat in the back of the bus. That was where she sat every day, way in the back where all the bumps where the worst. No one ever sat by her. Sure, every once in a while a kid would plop down next to her, but they never actually sat next to her. They sat in that seat, which just happened to be next to Arya.

This time, Brom grabbed a larger rock and threw it even harder. And at lower regions of Eragon than his head. A small groan escaped his lips as it made quite solid contact. A bunch of short kids who sat together (Called themselves the dwarves.) winced in sympathetic pain as Eragon stumbled to the bus. The elves, some tall, athletic jocks, broke out in laughter. Then there was every one in between, who simply didn't care. And then there was Arya, the lonely girl. She just kept her eyes trained on him.

Thus, it was quite easy for Eragon to fantasize that she was admiring his muscles. Though, if you read her thoughts, you would find that it wasn't quite as different as one might think. Arya just didn't know it yet.

**Ya know what's weird? There wasn't very much actual substance in this chapter. Eragon eats breakfast, talks to his Dad, gets beaned by a rock, admires Arya, gets beaned with a heavier rock in his soft spot. That's basically it. And I classified the elves as the athlete jocks. Bam! And yet, I somehow managed to take up 1328 words with it. **

**And now, my Reader-Blodhgarm RP!**

**Reader: You do realize that you are quite possibly the most unoriginal person that ever lived?**

**Raudhr Blodhgarm: Why yes. Yes I do. BUT MINE IS BETTER! OR AT LEAST I DELUDE MYSELF THAT IT IS! **

**Reader: Sure.**

**Raudhr Blodhgarm: *Throws Eraser* Brom sends his regards! Drives away in uber-high-tech black car. (That wasn't a Green Hornet reference at all. On that subject, Sarcasm is just great!)**

**Reader: My forehead that contains a brain that is incapable of comprehending Raudhr Blodhgarm's amazing literature! It burns!**

**Raudhr: No, that was unfair. I'm sure some smart people read my work. I'll rewrite it.**

**Reader: My forehead! It burns! (This is an edited version of the original sentence. Do not distribute.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 2: The real first day of school**

**I'm sorry if I took my sweet time getting this written, I had the worst case of writer's block that I've experienced so far, and I'm writing several other stories at the same time. Which ya'll should check out. As well as my profile. Catch ya at the border, bro!**

Eragon began barreling to the back of the bus when a catcall broke out from the cluster of seats where the "elves" were sitting.

"Slow down, Eragon! You'll put Arya off!" Faolin teased. Eragon deigned not to respond, and continued his pace until he reached the farthest back seat in the bus.

"You missed, Eragon!" Faolin called, "She's a few seats farther up"! Eragon then sat next to Saphira, a tall girl with spiky blue hair and rock music blaring from her headphones.

They had been inseparable since Eragon was eleven and they double-teamed a bully following Albriech, an old friend of Eragon's. Saphira had been homeless and saw Eragon fighting with the eighth grader. Saphira considered this foul play, and lobbed a brick at the unfortunate brute. She also happened to call to him "Yo wuss! Eat it!" so that he conveniently turned around. And she "accidentally" may have thrown it at approximately waist level. Eragon then snatched a stick and beat the older boy over the skull with it, while he was conveniently doubled over in pain. The boy later developed a phobia of the color blue, which Saphira always surrounded herself with.

It took some doing, but Eragon eventually managed to convince Garrow to adopt a child.

"I take care of my son, my nephew, and my nephew's shadow all by myself!" he often hollered at Eragon when the boy was being lazy. And that was how they met.

Now, Saphira helped around the ranch that Garrow owned. Despite Garrow's offers, she always slept in a tent within the fence that penned the cows in. She always paid her own way, and was fiercely loyal to her friends. She worked at a McDonald's. In fact, the only McDonald's within quite a distance of her home. She often referred to employees of McDonald's as McSlaves.

She would often declare "Time to put on my McSlave attitude!" whenever she left for the afternoon shift.

Now, she listened to Metallica on her "Borrowed" Ipod. Ipod robbery was a common punishment inflicted on those that were foolish to cross her or her friends.

"ERAGON!" A high-pitched voice resounded over all the other miscellaneous chatter in the bus.

"Yes, Nasuada?" Eragon replied wearily. You see, Eragon was in a sort of gang. However, it was more of a collection of the smartest, most talented nerds in Alagaesia high. One of their favorite pastimes was NMRRPG or Non-magical Reality Role Playing Games. Effectively, they made their own PVC weapons for PvP combat. The Varden, Eragon's team, had developed a very specific set of rules. Only the active captain, usually Nasuada, could carry a shield. Helmets required. Only one Archer permitted. They had even created game types. Capture the flag was Saphira's favorite, while King Killer was Eragon's favorite. In King Killer, the entire goal was to kill off the opposing team by striking a lethal spot on the players. However, until the Active Captain was removed from play, all soldiers respawn.

However, it was a rare occurrence that they did not engage in Bunker Buster, Nasuada's preferred mode of play. In this mode, half the team was given materials with which to build a stronghold, a tall oak pole, and ten minutes to create a defensible position. After the ten minutes were up, the other half began their coordinated assault on the Defense. They had to fight their way through trenches, stakes, and even palisades comprised of overturned chairs. And all this time, no one could respawn. The aggressors had to battle their way through the defenses and plant the pole in a designated area, which was usually about ten feet away from the original area. The aggressors received more recruits as they were at a severe disadvantage.

Their team was known as the Varden. NMRRPG was a competitive sport, and had a season of play. Other teams than the Varden included the Elves, Dwarves, Urgals, Surda, and the Empire. Every year, Nasuada had bested most of the teams with her tactical genius. However, the star warriors of the Empire, Galbatorix and Shruikan, were always absent if the Varden defeated them.

Surda usually assisted the Varden, as did the Dwarves.

And so, Nasuada was quite high-strung. As was demonstrated by her hollering "Come over here! We need to organize meeting times for our duels"!

"Of course, Nasuada!" Eragon replied, "I should have to come to you! Just sit next to me, for God's sake!" Nasuada glared daggers at him, but sat in the bench across from him.

"I was thinking, you're our best soldier. And don't argue," she reprimanded, seeing him preparing to debate, then continuing, "you really are. You're our only chance of defeating Galbatorix this year. As such, I believe it would be prudent to organize a strike team of you and some of the Elves, assuming they ally themselves with us. Saphira would come, of course." She assured them, noticing Saphira drawing breath to argue.

"That's all nice and well, but the Empire is one of the biggest teams in the country. If we strike directly at Galbatorix, then we will be as vulnerable as can be to a flanking maneuver." Eragon pointed out.

"While you two bicker about the best manner to defeat them, how about we start with deciding what time and dates our scrimmages will be on." Saphira suggested. "Of course, of course," Nasuada conceded, "let's do that. Oh yes, and I want statistics of how many soldiers we have and how skilled they are. Get on it!" Nasuada commanded, then briskly rose and strode over to Orrin, leader of the team Surda, to discuss leader-ly things. Eragon sighed. Today was going to be a long day.

**Bleh. This isn't a true author's note. I just wanted to tell you that part 2 of this chapter will be good. At least better than part 1.** **And that NMRRPG exists (Might not be called NMRRPG), so there. And I was thinking, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe written in a modern fashion would be cool. For example, Fenris Ulf, Chief of the secret police, would be a Russian. The beavers would be Irish. Review if you like the idea. Or if you don't. GIVE ME FEEDBACK! I BEG YOU!**

Eragon leaned against the wall of the school, waiting for the bell to ring. Suddenly, a rather massive weight slammed into him.

"Eragon!" Orik, a vertically challenged friend of Eragon, enveloped Eragon in a bear hug.

"Hey, Orik, I need my ribs intact!" Eragon gasped. The small man wordlessly released him, bellowed another name, and similarly greeted another unfortunate friend.

Eragon sauntered over to where the massively built assistant NMRRPG coach, Mr. Glaedr, was standing.

"And why do you approach me, Eragon?" the tall man queried.

"Forgive me for being polite, sir." Eragon feigned an injured tone. A booming laugh resounded over the yard.

Eragon then jogged over to where Ms. Angela and her husband, Mr. Solembum, were discussing the possibilities of Quantum Physics. "Hello!"Eragon greeted them, shaking hands with first Mr. Solembum, then Mrs. Angela.

"Have you done that research I asked you to do over the Rock of Kuthian?" Mr. Solembum asked, then finishing "How about the Menoa Tree?"

Eragon shook his head and explained "I looked everywhere in my textbooks, even on Google, and I found nothing". Angela cackled quite suddenly, and then pointed at her husband, still laughing.

"HA!" she exclaimed, tears now streaming down her face. "It doesn't exist! And neither do toads! Urban myths, the both of them!" she declared, then fell to the ground and rolled, she was so amused.

The tall, long-haired man shook his head and looked up at Eragon. "No matter how insane she may appear, I've yet to prove her wrong." He explained to Eragon in a warning tone.

"I'm fairly sure you never will." Eragon agreed, having known Angela for three years, which is a trifling amount compared to the thirty long years Mr. Solembum and her had been married.

"Oh, and what am I, chopped liver?" a sarcastic voice behind Eragon demanded.

Angela immediately snapped to attention and declared "I haven't the faintest clue why the subject of that phrase is 'chopped liver'. "Why not a more interesting organ, like 'chopped kidneys', or 'chopped thyroid', or 'chopped te"- she grinned, then continued "It doesn't really matter anyway, does it?"

Eragon whirled around, pretending to have not recognized the sarcastic voice. "Brom! I never would have guessed!" Eragon cried sarcastically.

"In the flesh." Brom responded, then wandered away to harass other students.

Eragon turned to look for someone else to greet when he caught sight of a certain dark-haired green-eyed girl. Suddenly, his knees didn't feel like cooperating.

"HA! Spontaneous human collapse does occur!" Angela proclaimed. Solembum kneeled and helped the teenager up, being as he doubted Angela would even remember about the child in a few moments. Eragon uncertainly regained his feet, and then shot a glance around for his friends.

Saphira sprinted towards him, scattering those in her path like frightened mice. "It's okay, Saphira. I'm fine." He assured her, doing his level best to prevent her from bowling over Mrs. Angela. She slowed, then stopped. A deep growling noise emanated from her throat, the noise she made before a fight. "There's no one to fight, Saphira. It's all good." He reassured her. She visibly relaxed. A shriek split the air, signaling the first hour. Eragon hurriedly dashed away.

His first hour was chemistry with Mrs. Angela. "Today, we will be dissecting frogs." The woman of questionable sanity announced.

"Don't we dissect toads?" An unfortunate student called up to her.

"TOADS DON'T EXIST!" She screamed, and then mumbled "get to work." and sat down at her desk.

Eragon sighed. Leave it to Mrs. Angela to start his year off with digging into the guts of dead things. Eragon wearily took hold of a scalpel and began splitting it open, before he just dropped the scalpel and glanced around the room for something to take his mind off the dead frog on the table in front of him. As he scanned the room, a pair of stark green eyes met his. He stared into Arya's eyes for a few seconds before glancing at the ground. Well there is that, he thought wryly. He heard a cough above him and lifted his gaze. To his infinite surprise, it was none other than Arya Drottning.

**AHHH! What will she do? Oh me oh my! Anyways, there are serious (or minor) continuity or grammar or spelling or syntax errors, tell me in the reviews. That's all. (This is my shortest ever author's note.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 3**

"Uhhhhhhh…" Eragon sputtered, at an entire loss of words.

"I just noticed that you didn't like the dissections, and I don't either." Arya explained.

"Yeah." Eragon managed to grunt.

"They just seem like such a waste of life." Arya explained, "Those frogs have a right to live, and then we kill them just so a few kids can study their guts."

Eragon shook his head. That was exactly how he felt about it. He glanced at Saphira, who was eagerly laying the frog's innards out on the table. He winced, and cast his eyes back to Arya. "I'll dissect yours for you." Eragon offered, silently hoping she denied his offer.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Arya replied, flashing Eragon a rare smile. "I figure we can suffer together."

She laughed, and Eragon finished her statement with "Misery loves company." She pulled up a chair next to him, and plopped into it. They both stared at the lifeless carcasses in front of them, and then simultaneously turned to each other to get their minds off the fate of the frog.

"So, what classes do you have?" Eragon queried, hoping, no, praying, that her second hour was math.

"Well, first hour I have science." She stated, and then continued sarcastically "Bet ya didn't know that!"

"I sure didn't!" Eragon responded, equally sarcastically.

"Then, second hour, I have Latin." Eragon sighed in disappointment, eliciting a questioning glace from Arya. "Anyways," she continued, "third hour I have gym. Fourth, English, fifth, World History, sixth, Medieval History, seventh, drum roll please, TRIG!" her melodic voice sounded unnaturally loud in the tranquil science room. Mrs. Angela shot her a death glare, to which she meekly waved.

"I have Trig second hour, Latin third, fourth English, fifth, gym, sixth, Medieval History, and seventh, World History." Eragon whispered.

"Funny," Arya observed, "we have entirely the same classes, just at different times. And I have 3 classes with you."

"S'pose so." Eragon agreed. The bell rang, inciting a stampede of high schoolers, and Eragon was swept away by the crowd.

The next two hours were non-descript, boring hours, being as everyone just did stupid "get-to-know-each-other" activities. Then, fourth hour arrived, with blaring trumpets (or bells).

"All right, welcome to my class." Oromis, his English teacher, announced. "We will be doing a few get-to-know-you activities later, but I've found that 11th grader's get to know each other quite quickly if given 10 minutes to chat. I encourage you to find someone you don't know." He stated, and then plopped into his desk to watch the chaos begin.

A chorus of "OMG! How have you been?" and "How was your summer?" erupted from the students, and Eragon wished he had an Aspirin. He cast his eyes about the room and caught sight of Arya in a pose reminiscent of his, one hand pinching the bridge of her nose, the other rubbing her temples. He rose from his chair and dove into the sea of students, determined to pick his way to Arya. Just as he neared her desk, he stumbled over a wayward foot and landed right on Arya! Arya yelped as his full weight knocked her out of her chair.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Eragon exclaimed, helping Arya up.

"That's not what I'm worried about, where's the dumb*ss that tripped you?" she growled, surprising Eragon with her ferocity.

"No clue." Eragon replied meekly.

"Ah well, that's life, I guess." She sighed, and sat down at her desk. "I suppose you were somehow negotiating the sea of chatty students," she gestured towards the bulk of the class, "to suffer with me?" she assumed.

"Pretty much, yeah." Eragon conceded, sitting in the empty desk next to her.

"Misery does love company." Arya finished, reenacting their conversation in Chemistry.

"How was your summer, just to perpetuate the noise in here?" Eragon asked, holding his fingers in his ears.

"Pretty good. I got to hold a big blue dinosaur egg, which was kinda cool, and I got this butt-kicking tattoo." She pulled down the right shoulder of her shirt, displaying a blue tattoo of a diamond. Eragon gulped as his eyes caught a strip of bare skin.

"How 'bout you?" She followed up, cocking her head in a questioning manner.

"Oh, nothing very exciting, I mostly just worked on my dad's ranch. I did win a war, though." He grinned, referring to NMRRPG."

She raised an eyebrow and commanded "Explain."

Eragon drew a big breath and prepared to give a speech he had given many a time. "Well, I play this sport called NMRRPG, which stands for Non-Magical, Reality Role-Playing Games. In a nutshell, we make PVC weapons for PVP combat."

He was about to continue with his speech when she broke in "No way! I play that too! What realm do you fight for?" she questioned eagerly, seeming to be opening up.

"The Varden." He replied, and then asking "How 'bout you?"

"Oh, just Du Weldenvarden. We're not a very big team. We used to ally with the Varden, but when I got a concussion from a broadsword, my captain withdrew all our troops."

"Ah." Eragon replied, remembering his worry when Roran had got himself concussed.

"May I intrude?" Oromis's voice asked from behind them. Eragon meekly turned around to see his English teacher standing there.

"Sorry." Eragon mumbled and picked his way through the rows of silent students, his ears and cheeks (the ones on his face) turning red. As he plopped into his chair, he glanced about the room. Nobody seemed to be taking undue interest in his predicament. Maybe it wasn't so bad, Eragon thought.

And then Faolin's voice broke the silence with "Bit a Flirt Fest, there, Eragon!" Oromis shot him his patented Death Gaze (do not distribute) and he shut up, but not after shooting Eragon a smirk. Well there was him, of course, Eragon thought. After that they were just assigned some stupid activity, which no one did, but Eragon didn't dare go back to talk to Arya.

Next hour he had gym, in which the Brom assessed everyone's physical fitness. Eragon passed with flying colors, due to his work around the ranch and the strenuous sport of NMRRPG. He managed 50 push-ups in one minute, and eight pull-ups. He groaned when unfit kids only eked out ten or fifteen push-ups. Brom showed no mercy in picking out flaws and pushing kids harder.

After that he had Medieval History. As he strode into the room with a somewhat cocky stride, due to his success in Gym, he felt his knees turn to jelly at the seating arrangements. They were organized into groups of three. He sat in the middle of one. Arya sat to his right. Faolin sat to his left. CRAP.

**This will be tricky for our hero, will it not? Tell me if my writing is lacking, but please don't shoot an anonymous hate review at me. I just delete those. If you would just sign your reviews, then I would respect them, but some people don't even fill in the Anonymous Name bar. So I'll just delete them, so you know. Please tell me how you feel about the pace of things, and the Eragon-Faolin similarity between Bartimaeus-Faquarl. Not much to say, so that's Raudhr Blodhgarm, signing off!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 4: The last two hours of the first day of school**

**PSYCH! This is just some responses to reviewers. But yeah, there will be a chapter afterwards. Thank you reviewers that don't just random hate! Let's roll!**

**Ikaness: Yes, my friend Groose Almighty agrees, so I updated into paragraphical form. Thank you for helping improve my story. Love you long time.**

**BlackVenomHeart: Duel declined. I am not under the illusion that I write well, and know I would lose. I am working on a focal point, but no matter what, I refuse to abandon this story. When I'm reading a story and find out that the writer gave up on it, my soul is crushed. So I stick with it.**

**AryasBrisingr: A) Are they Famous Amos? And B) I'm trying. Thank you for galvanizing me into action.**

**Ghost Who Walks: Thank you. I very much appreciate people that take the time to write reviews. They really mean a lot to me. And I like your style. Try getting an account, it's free. You would be a good author. Love you long time. (Random Hate doesn't count as a review. That's just hate.)**

**Seal of Fate: Never read Twilight, and I probably never will. And getting an account takes literally, ten minutes. So if you don't have an account, and people are discounting you, stop being lazy and get one. And why would I be happy to get a Flame? NO REASON AT ALL! Kthxbye. **

Eragon grimaced as Faolin strode in the room. 3… 2… 1…

To Eragon's surprise, a mischievous grin broke onto Faolin's face. Faolin turned and shot Eragon an "I'm going to screw with your mind until you break down and curl into a fetal position and die" glance. He strolled leisurely over to his assigned desk, and plopped into the chair. "I'm going to screw with your mind until you die." Faolin whispered.

"Thanks." Eragon muttered sarcastically. He quite truly realized now the meaning of a mixed blessing. Yes, he was next to Faolin, but also next to Arya. Well. This seemed like a good way to end up bashing his head against the desk. Arya then strode into the room, glanced around, and sat next to Eragon. She pinched the bridge of her nose, as if a headache was coming on. Eragon turned his head to see Faolin staring at Arya. Great, Eragon groaned internally, I have to compete with this idiot to go out with Arya too. Fantastic. Assuming she doesn't just reject me out of hand.

Mr. Jeod walked to the front of the classroom and declared "I am of the opinion that 'get-to-know-each-other-activities' are as pointless as they come, so we're getting straight to reading. In fact, straight to a project." He grinned, and then continued "I am going to assign all of you a time period in the past, and you will write a dramatic rendition of a notable event in that time period. It's due in two weeks, and you'll be in groups of three. Specifically, the people you are sitting with. Let's get started, shall we? Glenwing, Dathedr, and Faethev, you are assigned the Spanish Inquisition. Arya, Eragon, and Faolin, you are assigned the Crusades." Mr. Jeod continued speaking, but Eragon had stopped listening. He was a bit of a Crusades fanatic, and already knew what he could write a script over. A rendition of the Horns of Hattin would be easy. He could write the whole thing of the top of his head! "We're doing this over the Second Battle of Jerusalem." Faolin stated, then glared at Eragon, daring him to disagree. "I was thinking the Horns of Hattin." Eragon began, but Faolin cut him off with "That's ridiculous. You're an idiot. Nobody loves you. Kay thanks bye." This elicited a snort from Arya. Eragon felt like dying just about then. The rest of class was uneventful. After around forty minutes, Mr. Jeod declared "Class dismissed." And students poured into the hallway.

**Poor Eragon. Tell me what you think about this new, much better, edition. The previous chapter was, quite possibly, the worst chapter I have ever read, much less written. I beg forgiveness from all those who read it and realized how crappy it was. To clarify, Mr. Solembum teaches World History, Jeod teaches Medieval History, Brom teaches Gym, Angela teaches Chemistry, Ajihad teaches Trig, Oromis teaches English, and Izlanzadi teaches Latin. And sorry about no lunch, it totally slipped my mind! Eragon had an uneventful lunch and we'll leave it at that.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 5**

**Here are some responses to my faithful reviewers. Ya'll are awesome!**

**Lost Grey Wolf: Many thanks for reviewing. It means a lot to me. And yes, I do think it is good. Hoorah!**

**Ghost who Walks: I'm slowing down. And check out the Faolin POV! You will appreciate it. And NxM may not have a place in this story. I think Eragon may end up competing with Murty for Arya. Once Faolin's dead or something. (Kidding.) And that was how I picture Firnen, so probably.**

** 49: Angela is the best character, straight up. And yes, she should teach chemistry. Because she will teach them useful things. (Like how to make a nine-volt bomb. Funny how often that comes in handy…)**

**I know I'm a troll about these "author's notes" at the beginning, I just really like them. Anyways, this chappie will be the best chapter in the story, most likely, and the one most different from others. In other words, Murtagh and Eragon have their Confrontation on the Burning Plains, Outsiders style! That's right, we're talking a street fight. And some insight into Faolin's character (no, he's not a jerk), mixed with some Eragon and Arya time. Do remember the whole point of this story. Which is a romantic little fic for Arya and Eragon. However, the ExA time will be much better, and related to NMRRPG (which makes everything better.) So hold on to your virtual hats (Hopefully fedoras), and read! **

Eragon stumbled into the courtyard, swept along by the inexorable flow of students from the school. He glanced around for his older brother Roran, also known as his ride home. Just as he began to resign himself to the dismal fate of walking to the ranch, a loud honk alerted him to the presence of Roran's truck. To Eragon's surprise (Heaven knows why), Katrina was in the passenger's seat of the worn down white pickup.

A blue blur flashed past him, delivering a brisk slap to the back of his head as it sped towards Roran's truck. Ah, Saphira, Eragon thought wryly, Queen of the Gibbs Slap. He hitched his backpack up and made after her.

Roran shot Eragon a mischievous grin, and flew out of the parking lot. "No, wait!" Eragon cried vainly after the retreating form of the beat-up vehicle. He sighed and prepared for the two mile trek back to the ranch.

The trip was uneventful (if tiring) for a some odd hour and forty-five minutes, but that sort of thing seems to be rather fragile. And indeed the peaceful state of this trip was shattered, as they are wont to be. Eragon passed by an alley, when a certain black-clad figure stepped out of it.

Eragon turned his head just as the figure crashed into him, flinging him against the wall. Eragon, who was no pushover, quickly regained his feet, blinking away the stars that sprang to his eyes. He ducked under a savage swing. CRAP! He thought, backing away from the figure. There was something familiar about him, but Eragon had no time to ponder. The mystery man, who appeared to be a high-schooler, swung at him again.

Eragon continued to backpedal, furiously trying to recall his practice sessions with the Varden over fist weapons. He backed into a wall, encouraging his adversary to charge. Eragon dove to the side, narrowly avoiding a vicious kick. Fortunately, the man let up and swore, holding his foot that had slammed into the wall.

Must be one of that gang, the Forsworn, Eragon thought, his mind furiously tried to work out the identity of the man.

He seized the opportunity that the man's toe injury presented and enveloped his foe in a crushing bear hug, swinging him about. They crashed into walls, bruising Eragon's ribs and shoulder.

Suddenly, a tall red-haired man began pounding towards them, only to be intercepted by Saphira, who savagely kicked his knee, flying out of an adjoining alley. He was tall, but she was towering. They began their own mini-brawl, with Saphira clearly being the superior. The black-clad combatant's fist connected with Eragon's gut, sending him reeling backwards. The man followed, kicked him, hard, in the fork of the legs, brining Eragon down.

However, it is commonly considered deeply unwise to injure Eragon if Saphira is not well contained. This proved true, as Saphira rammed the ginger into a wall and pounded out the distance between her and the man. He was too focused kicking Eragon in the ribs to notice her bearing down on him and was flung into the alley like a broken marionette. As he crashed into the ground, his hood flew off his face, revealing his identity: Murtagh.

Murtagh had been Eragon's friend, but had left him in favor of the Forsworn. Eragon had been unaware of his joining of the Forsworn, but was acutely aware of his acceptance into the Empire. He had known that Murtagh had abandoned him, but this was a cold hard reality.

"Thorn! Get her!" Murtagh barked, then gesturing towards Saphira. The man headed off doggedly, but Saphira shook him off. Murtagh rose, very slowly, and dusted his legs off.

"Surrender…" Eragon pleaded from his point on the ground.

Saphira growled aggressively, sending the two into defensive stances, but then grudgingly spat "Fine. I submit." Murtagh began to laugh when Saphira screamed "SCREW OFF!" and hurled a rock, which crashed into his forehead. Murtagh and Thorn then beat a retreat, fully aware that they had won.

**WOOOOHOOOO! There's a street fight if I ever saw one. Which I haven't. Just to clarify, that represented the Battle of the Burning Plains. MMMMHHMMMM. I'm sorry, no battle scene for Hrothgar, he dies of a heart attack. :( And the twins, unbeknownst to Eragon, were OWNED by Roran Stronghammer! And now, we go to looking into Fay's (Faolin's) POV!**

Faolin absently spun around in his revolving chair, pondering something of, to him, paramount importance. He had known Arya since, what, first grade? Yeah, that seemed right. They had drunk cider and eaten cookies together for years. It wasn't very easy to figure out where to go from there.

He could still remember dueling with sticks, despite the bitter cold that bit to their bones. Then they would go in for hot chocolate, courtesy of Mrs. Drottningu. After that they would play chess. He chuckled to himself. Arya always went easy on him. He had been friends with her for over a decade, now.

But this new feeling he had towards her, he wasn't used too. He had dated girls, yeah, and liked them, but his was different. "God, I sound like frickin' Stephanie Meyers." He muttered under his breath. "Wouldn't Arya be proud." He snorted.

Arya had burned more than one copy of the Twilight series. Then buried the ashes. Faolin might be able to find them, given time. And a shovel. Though he most definitely wouldn't be able to tell the difference between Breaking Noon and Twilight. Or whatever they're called.

His cell phone began ringing loudly, playing the opening notes to "I am The Doctor", startling him out of his reverie. He snapped open the LG, and asked "Hello?" To his surprise, (and joy), it was Arya that answered on the other end.

"HEY! GUESS WHAT?" She hollered, clearly very excited.

"What?" He asked, mimicking her excited tone.

"I have a new phone! I will dance!" She declared, and some rustling came through to Faolin. He erupted into gales of merriment, falling out of his chair.

"You are the craziest girl I have ever met!" he guffawed, still rolling about.

"Aw hecks yes!" she replied, then bellowed "I will dance some more!" Faolin continued to laugh, but somewhere in his subconscious he wondered why she was so quiet around others when she acted like this on occasion.

**If you don't like crazy Arya, leave me the heck alone, because she ain't changing. EVAH. Sorry to all you who liked Twilight, it just doesn't seem Arya's cup of tea. To be mild. And yes, that was a Doctor Who reference you spotted back there, you clever clever readers! That so needs to be my ringtone. FOR RIZZLEZ. Is it good? I think so. Faolin is a nice guy. Not what you thought, eh?**

Arya was acting goofy, as she usually did around people she knew, and talking to Faolin, when her phone honked.

"The heck?" Faolin's disembodied voice floated out of the home.

"Oh!" Arya slapped her forehead, and then continued "That's one of the alarms I set to remind me when some stuff will be going down!" A loud slap resonated through the phone as Faolin remembered that he had NMRRPG practice in a few minutes.

"NMRRPG practice, right?" he confirmed, with a satisfactory reply of "Yep."

She grinned, and declared "For the elves!" eliciting the expected response of "And for the Queen!" from Faolin. She snapped the phone shut and reached for her shin straps.

She chuckled. She was like an 18th century woman, wearing seven layers under her outer layer. She strapped on her PVC shoulder pads.

A thought struck her. Her sword clattered to the ground. Both Eragon and Faolin would be there for this spar. On opposite teams. Oh boy.

Once Eragon arrived home, Garrow wordlessly bandaged him and iced his bruises. Only once Eragon was mended to his liking did he inquire as to the origins of the injuries.

"I got in a fight." Eragon replied curtly.

Garrow shot him a glare and snapped "Don't. You're going to explain why the hell you're so bashed up, and you're not leaving this room until I say you've explained." Eragon opened his mouth to protest, but settled for a sigh.

"I was walking home, and a dude in black ambushed me. We fought for a while, and then that new kid Thorn came and started beating on me, but Saphy stepped in and thrashed him, and then the hood on the weird dude fell off, and it was Murtagh." He babbled, letting it all flow out. Garrow sucked in a breath, recalling all that bad business with Murtagh. Murtagh had begun to bully Eragon, and then Garrow had met Murtagh in an alley and "suggested" he stop.

"Let's forget this happened-" Garrow began to suggest, but Eragon cried "What?" Garrow shot him a glare of poison and continued "until we can ambush him ourselves." Eragon grinned conspiratorially. His foster father could be rather vindictive.

"What time is it?" Garrow asked, twisting around for a glimpse at the clock. "Ah crap, I got to go!" Eragon yelped and dashed to his room to gather his NMRRPG materials.

A few minutes later, Eragon emerged; armored in a helmet, shin pads, shoulder pads, gauntlets, a shield crafted from a large board of plywood, screws, and an old thrift store belt. And, of course, his hand-made longsword Brisingr.

He dashed out of the house and hopped onto his dented bike, which had been redecorated to resemble a dragon. Eragon had a habit of showing up to duels like these with advantages no one ever thought of. He would be the first mounted NMRRPG warrior! EVER!

Arya glanced around the practice field, viewing with apprehension the size of the Varden. She silently sent a prayer of thanks that they would be on the same team when the tournaments came. What she really looked for, however, was either Faolin or Eragon.

A massive shaped loomed in the corner of her eye, and she whirled around to see Eragon mounted on a bike, decorated like a dragon! Saphira was close behind on a plain bike, which she hopped of off the moment she was on the field. Eragon seemed to show no such inclination.

The field went silent as Nasuada and Izlanzadi met, no doubt determining the legality of his improvisation. Eragon was shooting his friends triumphant looks, as if he'd already won.

She growled. In your dreams, Bike Boy, she silently, but fiercely, snarled.

Faolin jogged to her side and muttered "That will be a pain in the-"

"grass" Arya finished, reenacting one of their many inside jokes. They shot each other grins, and Arya whispered "He can't duel anyone like that, it's too unwieldy. No doubt he's going to dash past us, swinging as he goes." she turned to Faolin and inquired shrewdly "Do you think that'll work?"

"We may lose a few soldiers, but I think an archer can pick him off before he causes too much damage. To be safe, though," he turned to the thick woods behind them, "we may want to set up in there."

Arya quickly attempted to change the subject, asking "Did you notice his shield? I thought the rules were only the AC could use them."

Faolin grimaced and growled "I think he is the AC this round." She turned to him and nodded. She had guessed as much.

Nasuada strode into the center of her warriors and declared "We have elected to train in one on one duels before the larger conflict. I will inform you that the Acting Captains of this round are Arya Drottning, and Eragon Shadeslayer!" Eragon grinned as she referred to his title gained when he defeated the legendary Durza Shade in a duel. Arya stumbled backwards as if struck physically.

Faolin wordlessly caught her, then muttered "You okay?" She shook her head and firmly replied "Yes."

Then she turned to her warriors and announced "Pick a warrior you have rarely or never defeated!" She allowed a small grin to split her face. Only three warriors moved. Her warriors were far more skilled than the rank-and-file of the Varden.

She turned back to Faolin to see him making his way to Eragon. Saphira squared herself as Glenwing, a good friend of Faolin's approached her. Eragon slowly dismounted and drew his custom-made blade. And finally, the last warrior that was mightier than an elf drew his weapon.

Roran Stronghammer, the one that wielded a small PVC hammer, and yet had defeated most of the elves at least once. He snarled at Izlanzadi, expecting to lose, but never going to accept it.

The first clang of weapons rang out over the battlefield. Arya stared avidly at Eragon dueling Faolin.

The first time had ever noticed the former, when he was late for the bus, she had observed that he moved with the easy strength and grace of a lion. Or a warrior. From that moment on she had suspected that he was a skilled NMRRPG soldier.

Here, her suspicions were proven beyond a doubt. He twirled around Faolin, locked in a dance, blades whirling, shields clashing. Their expressions were fierce, their only attention on each other. To them, the world was nothing but each other, action, reaction, offense, defense.

It soon became clear that Faolin would win out. Their blades clashed three more times, and then Eragon cast his aside and seized Faolin by the shoulders and began spinning. A blur of motion and Faolin fell, Eragon triumphantly holding up his dagger!

**You know you love it! Was it sufficient? I thought it was good, and it's the longest chappie I've ever written. By far. Some good all around fun. And now, a verse from "Goodbye Black Ops". "I still remember the first game I ever did play. M16 class, Domination, Array. Couldn't get home fast enough from GameStop. Dolphin divin' when I meant to drop shot! HEY!" Mhmm. Well, there will be more ExA time later, but I realized something. I am finding it hard to keep these two together. I think Murtagh is destined to be the loser, along with Eragon, and Faolin gets her, but I will fight destiny to the bitter end.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 6**

**For ya'll's info, Izlanzadi is Arya's older sister. Just makes it easier on me. Her mom works too much, and doesn't really interact with her. The mom will be known as "Mrs. Drottningu." That's all. And of course, responses to my lovely reviewers.**

**Lost Grey ****Soul****: Sorry again for calling you Lost Grey Wolf, and the 11****th****, without a doubt in my mind.**

**Keyblademasta12: Why thank you. I appreciate it with all my soul. And yes, I like the thought of Eragon winning by trickery also.**

**Ghost Who Walks: Thanks for pointing out the "brining Eragon down" thing. I appreciate it. And the whole reason Murtagh betrayed him will be revealed soon. It was a serious reason, trust me. And believe me, it's looking like we're gonna have some MxA and FxA, even if that's not how it ends. And you'll like this chapter, even though it's obscenely short. Well not really, at least compared to chapter 4 it's not. Well, you are my most faithful reviewer, and I appreciate it. BAI!**

Members of the Varden surged to Eragon, bellowing a wordless roar of triumph. Faolin sneered and stalked away, snatching his discarded blade from the ground. Arya considered following him, but knew that he would just need to cool off.

She turned back to Saphira and Glenwing. Saphira used an odd weapon that consisted of series of spikes running down her forearms and shins, which appeared far more versatile than Glenwing's simple longsword. Even as Arya turned to follow the battle, an elbow struck Glenwing in the temple, felling him. Arya dashed to her friend and verified that he was not injured and turned to Roran and Izlanzadi.

To her surprise, Roran was dancing away from her blows, not at all his usual approach. Suddenly, he toppled Eragon's "mount" towards her, stunning her for just a moment. That was all Roran ever needed, though. His hammer lashed out, seemingly of its accord, striking her sword wrist. Her blade clattered to the ground and Roran bashed her in the temple, grinning. Arya sprinted towards the oblivious warrior, fully prepared to beat him to the ground for hurting her sister. Suddenly, a pair of surprisingly small hands bent her arms behind her back firmly.

"Let's be reasonable, yeah? Leave him be, he won without breaking any rules." Katrina's voice floated around her shoulder. Arya struggled around a bit, but Katrina was either damn strong or fueled by something Arya just wasn't.

When Izlanzadi didn't get up after a while, she began to thrash with new resolve, but found no resistance.

She turned around to see Eragon holding Katrina gently but firmly away from Arya. "Be reasonable, yeah?" He repeated, and winked at Arya. "I'm sure she was just checking on her sister." He let Katrina go and headed in Roran's direction, preparing to give him a piece of his mind.

Arya dashed to Izzy's side, and began shaking her. She found no response.

"Wake up, Izzy!" she shook her, hard. Izzy groaned weakly.

She looked up to see Roran, caught by the collar by Eragon, who snarled "If you concussed her, I swear I'll"-

"Knock it off!" Nasuada barked, and knelt next to Arya.

Eragon strode over and offered "I can treat a concussion! They teach you that in Boy Scouts."

Arya and Nasuada's heads both snapped up in surprise. "You're a Boy Scout?" Arya asked, completely blindsided.

"Yeah. Any real man is." Eragon replied, then turned and hollered "Get me some ice!", and then pointed at one soldier and commanded "You. Get her some ice." He scurried away, and Eragon whirled back to Arya. "Talk to her. It helps." He suggested.

Arya gulped and muttered "Hey Izzy, remember that time you fell out of a tree and thought you broke your neck?" She felt like an idiot.

"You have to talk louder." Eragon urged, glancing at Izzy. He then mumbled "Sorry." And whipped off his shirt.

"What the hell are you doing?" Arya stammered, jumping away from him. He shot her a dirty look and ripped a strap of cloth from it, then began to look through Izzy's hair.

"Ah ha!" He shouted victoriously, then tied the sash around her head at the point he had been examining. He then pulled his shirt, or what was left of it, back on. "I need some warm water, ASAP!" He bellowed, his voice deep and commanding. Then, as an afterthought he added "And some cold water!" Somebody tossed him a bottle of frosty water, which he snatched deftly out of the air. He screwed off the cap, and then knelt, slowly drizzling it on her forehead. Somebody pitched a bag of ice right at his head, which Arya caught, then handed to him. He placed on her temple.

Just as he began to look like he had nothing else, Izzy sputtered "What the fu"-

"I've got you." Arya crooned soothingly. Izzy lifted her hand to rub her head when Eragon gripped her wrist gently.

"Don't do that," he warned, "You'll make it worse." A steaming water bottle was rolled to him. He opened it and addressed Izzy. "This is going to hurt like the devil itself." He explained in an apologetic tone. He untied the cloth and began pouring the water on her temple.

"HOLY CRAP!" Izzy screamed, slapping her hand on the ground. "Ow! Ow ow ow ow ow!" Eragon grimaced but kept up. "FRICKIN' OW!" Izzy groaned one last time, and then Eragon lifted the bottle away and explained.

"It keeps out infection. That could have saved your life." He screwed the lid back on and tossed it into the crowd. Arya rested her head on Eragon's shoulder, suddenly exhausted by the whole ordeal.

"Thanks." She mumbled simply, and Eragon replied "De nada." They sat there in that pose, Arya and Eragon kneeling, her head on his shoulder, Izzy swearing pungently, for a while. Then Eragon shook himself and rose, then turned and addressed his warriors.

"As Acting Captain of the Varden, I declare this meet over due to circumstances that were unfortunately dangerous. After all, we would only have ten minutes left in the meet anyways." He declared, and then began to jog away. He stopped, though, and turned.

"Hey Arya!" he called.

She turned and replied "Yeah?"

Eragon gulped and asked the time-honored phrase, "Want to go to the movies later?"

Arya grinned and called back. "Sure. There's a midnight premiere for Harry Potter." She turned and jogged away, leaving Eragon with a giddy smile on his face.

**All is not as it seems, Padawans! Eragon will still have to keep her! Let us not forget the embittered (Not really) elf, Faolin. And the devilishly handsome Murtagh!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 7**

**Hey, it's me! That weird guy that's kind of creepy! Anyways, this is Arya and Eragon's movie date, which you will have to read! So there's your summary, here's your responses. **

**ExA: Well, probably. But maybe not. It is so hard to tell this early in. Faolin is the most likely candidate, then Eragon, then Murtagh, but that's right now. It will probably rearrange sometime.**

**Axel 16: I can't be expected to make sense all the time. I am insane, after all. Read the profile, dang it (Shelby)! And Eragon probably would've been thrashed if he got in a fight with Roran. He really didn't care, though. And I'm a Boy Scout. And let me tell you, we ain't goody-two-shoes. You come on a campout with us, you come back a different person.**

**Ghost Who Walks: He is a 4-H kid as well. Busy kid. I just needed someone to treat Izzy and it hit me. I am their ranch dog. Raudhr Blodhgarm, the most expressive dog in the world! You're an elf, Axel's a Varden soldier, Lost Grey Soul is another elf, and ExA isn't in it because his review is too short. And don't doubt my secretary! He's a fine little immortal human. Nothing special, but he's pretty good at proof-reading. And making pie. He's also good at making blueberry pie. Yay for smilies and being the best HS author out there. (Doesn't surprise me. The competition is pretty bad.) You seem to have made a habit of being awesome enough to recognize. Good job. And good for your team of, er, creatures that work for you. I just have Scott (my secretary) and Trevor (who is a beast kin, but also a wizard at proof-reading.) And of course Phil, my bruiser. He is The Duke of Insufficient Light, wields a spoon, and darns everyone to heck.**

Eragon stood in the mirror, readjusting himself for what must have been the hundredth time. He had changed his outfit enough times that Uncle Garrow had hollered at him to make up his mind.

He growled. Why was he so damn concerned with his appearance? He had never really taken the time to dress well in the past.

Well, on the bright side of things, at least Garrow hadn't stepped in and made him dress formally. He shuddered, imagining showing up in a tux. He examined his outfit critically once more.

The hat was awesome; you couldn't go wrong with a fedora. He also had no doubts about the trench coat. It was chilly, anyways. That was a good excuse. The jeans weren't amazing, but they didn't need to be. They wouldn't attract bad attention. The problem was his shirt. He had no clue what to wear! Finally he just shrugged and slipped on a white T-shirt. Very casual, but it looked damn good. He shook himself off and dashed outside.

Roran was waiting there with Katrina and Saphira. "What the heck is this? A goodbye party? I'm not leaving, never to return." Eragon demanded.

Roran grinned and responded "Me and Katrina are going to a club after we drop you off. And Saphira just wanted to see the movie."

Eragon screamed "WHAT? It's a date, Saphira! I can't bring my sister!" Saphira just shrugged.

"Whatevs. I'm going. Don't make me hurt you." She muttered. Suddenly, an idea struck Eragon. He grinned shrewdly.

"You like someone, don't you?" he queried.

"What? No, I don't know what you're talking about! You're crazy." She stammered, blushing.

"Aw, come on, admit it. There's that freshie, Firnen, for example." He chuckled. To his surprise, she just sputtered more and blushed to a deeper shade. "A freshie?" Eragon asked incredulously, "For shame, Saphira! For shame!" he chastised.

"Shut up." She mumbled, and leapt into the pickup. Eragon turned to Roran and Katrina.

"I can drive myself, you know." He pleaded, desperately praying that he wouldn't be dropped off at the movies. Roran flashed a predatory grin.

"All right. Drive us then." He grinned, and then continued, "You're our designated driver anyway." Eragon raised an eyebrow at this, but opened the door and clambered into the towering truck. They had set out yesterday and obtained tickets from another customer. Eragon shuddered. He hated how much they cost when you bought them from unofficial sources. Ah well, he thought, it's worth the result.

Arya had never had problems with her appearance. She had always been naturally graceful, and most things fit her.

Today, however, she seemed incapable of decision making. She had great form in the vermillion dress, but she might be overdressing. Then again, a simple outfit of jeans and a sweatshirt was rather boring. She decided that she would do what she always did when faced with such a problem: flip a coin.

Snatching a quarter from her dresser, she assigned heads to formal and tails to casual. The coin winked once in the light, and then came back down into Arya's outstretched hand. She glanced at it.

Heads. Ah well, she thought, at least I'm told that I'm a stunner in that. She slipped on the determined outfit and dashed out the door.

Only to find Izzy leaning against the dented Volkswagen Beetle she drove around. "Yes, Izzy?" Arya sighed, hoping to just get on the road.

"I just wanted to tell you, no more than two beers at most." She explained.

Arya shook her head and said "It's the movies, Izzy, not a bar. And I know how much is too much." Izzy moved away from her bug, allowing Arya access. "But you don't mind me going with Eragon, do you?" Arya teased, "He did save your life."

Izzy looked surprised at this news. "Didn't know you were going with him. Yeah, I don't care where you go with him; just make sure you're back by midnight. I dunno if Mom would like you being out any later." Arya shook her head.

"I do." She muttered, and sped away.

Eragon dropped Roran and Katrina off at the Dras-Leona Docks, the lakeside club they were headed to, then drove to the movies.

Arriving there, he hopped out of the truck and locked it. Jogging away, he prepared himself to greet Arya and be a fine little gentleman. Huh, he thought, looks like she's not here yet. That's a shame. He dawdled for about five minutes, and then noticed a slug bug pulling into the parking lot. He whirled around and searched the crowd for Saphira.

Not seeing her, he turned back to his vigil, only to see Arya gliding down the asphalt like a goddess towards him. He gaped. He was either damn underdressed, or she was overdressed, but either way, this was going to be awkward.

She slid next to him and greeted him with a simple "Hey! There you are!"

Eragon gulped and managed to stammer "Good to see you."

She grinned and replied "You too." effortlessly. She flowed into the theater, her natural grace eliciting pure awe from Eragon. He stumbled after her, brutally aware of how underdressed he was.

She flashed her tickets, and then stepped up to the snack bar.

Eragon suddenly remembered his manners and quickly offered "Oh yeah, you want a drink or some popcorn? My treat."

She grinned and threw up her hands. "Ah, what the heck? I'll have a sweet tea."

Eragon nodded and repeated solemnly "Sweet tea." fixing it in his memory. He walked up to the cashier and produced his wallet. "I'll have two fountain drinks please." He declared.

"All right." The cashier sighed, and then fiddled with the register a bit. "Four dollars and fifty-five cents, please." He said in a monotone. Eragon counted out the money and slid it across the counter, receiving two cheap cups in return. He dashed off to the fountain.

Eragon and Arya emerged from the theater, stretching their stiff muscles. "Holy crap, that was good." Eragon admonished.

"Yeah. They get rather depressing after a while, though. People are always dying!" she replied.

Eragon nodded and informed her "I gotta pick up my brother. He's at the Dras-Leona Docks."

Arya's head snapped up and she suggested "I'll come. When are you due home?" she asked, cocking her head.

"It's a Friday, so Garrow doesn't care." Eragon replied, feeling warm excitement blossom in his chest.

"Oh good, my sister won't care either." She announced, and then, seeing the questioning look on his face, continued "Yes, the one you treated at NMRRPG." Eragon grinned.

"Let's go. Ladies first." He ushered her out the door, and followed.

**Yay! ExA! Things will get interesting at the club. I don't yet know how that will go. But you will soon! Well, that be it, maties!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 8**

'**Ello! Just a little greeting from your friendly neighborhood creep! I just realized, quite suddenly, that I have not advertised with this story yet! I mean advertising good authors and forums and such. I'm also going to have a rant, after the story. Read it through, if you want. I'll give you virtual monkey bread! And now, recognizing my excellent reviewers. Here we go!**

**ExA-mazing: Many thanks, friend. I appreciate you people that take the time to review. Ya warm my soul (Which is located directly behind the pancreas).**

**Axel 16: Well, yes, they are. And I'm sorry about moving fast, it is a flaw born of writing adventures and hating suspenses. Humors also can't move slowly, because they lose their namesake, "humor". So it is an honest problem, though a problem nonetheless. **

**The Ghost Who Walks: Ah yes, hello Severine. I wonder what would happen if Scott and Severine would meet. Probably some bad junk. Scott always has a bobby pin, and those things are useful little sabotage devices! I picked a lock at my school once with one. Kind of hard to explain to a teacher, that. This chapter will be pretty craziness, and very little romance. Lots of drunken people. And a bit of violence. I think I should roll out the bar fight, but if that sounds awful to you, just don't read this chapter. It's not important. I think. And weird is good, strange is bad. **

Eragon bumped and churned down the road towards the club, occasionally bashing his head on something. His truck had issues on good roads, much less this faint trail of gravel. He knew without looking that Arya was in her car, right behind him.

He grinned. This was a fine way to end a day.

A sudden lurch flung Eragon into the door. He grunted and regained control. He pulled into Dras-Leona Docks parking lot and hopped out. Arya slid in next to him and followed suit.

He jogged into the building, holding the door for Arya. He squinted his eyes, trying to see through the pallor of smoke that lay over the room. Music pounded in his ears, and people thrashed on the dance floor. Eragon shook his head. He would probably be sticking to the bar or parlor, a little peaceful cellar left over from Prohibition.

He grinned. Arya stood out in her green velvet dress, surrounded by badly dressed dancers. Suddenly, Arya just slipped out of her dress, revealing her jeans and t-shirt. Eragon smirked. Just like Arya to wear that under her dress, just in case.

She turned and tossed the dress to Eragon. "I'll put this in my truck!" he shouted over the clamor.

"Okay!" She hollered back, then headed over to the bartender. Eragon opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight, gulping warm air. He shook his head. How Roran could dance in there for hours was beyond him.

He jogged to his truck and folded the dress, almost reverently, then placed it inside. He locked the truck and turned around.

The keys clattered to the pavement. Walking towards the bar was Galbatorix, Murtagh, Thorn, and Shruikan. Eragon gulped and retrieved the keys.

Just my luck, he thought glumly, then trotted back into the club. Arya was waiting for him, a glass bottle in either hand. Eragon raised an eyebrow, but then realized that they were Coke bottles.

"Many thanks." He delved into his pocket and pulled out a pocket knife. Arya stumbled backwards. He quickly caught her, then explained "I have a bottle opener on it."

Arya blushed, embarrassed of how she had reacted. Eragon didn't notice, and just popped off the cap. He turned to her.

"I can open yours." He offered, holding out his hand. She grinned and wordlessly handed it over. Eragon popped the cap off with practiced ease. Arya raised an eyebrow, and shot him a questioning glance. "I used to work at the Seven Sheaves, over in Carvahall." he explained, returning the bottle. Arya nodded.

"Well, well, well, fancy meeting you here." A deep voice mocked from behind Eragon. Eragon slumped in despair. He knew that voice all well. "Are you not going to respond? That's commonly considered rude. Or do you even acknowledge etiquette anymore?" The voice continued.

Eragon began to slink away, but the deep voice called him back. "Now, I wouldn't want to force someone to be civil, but if that's what it takes…" Eragon sighed.

"Hello, Galbatorix." He muttered meekly.

"Hello indeed." Galbatorix huffed. "I believe that it may be wise of you to leave." He suggested, a thread of steel in his voice. Eragon scampered away, and Arya made to follow him, but Galbatorix seized her wrist like a vice. "I said nothing about you leaving, beautiful." He snarled.

Eragon seized Galbatorix by the collar and growled "If you so much as touch her again, I will teach you what hell really feels like, you son of a-"

Roran burst in between the two of them. "What'sh going onnn here?" He demanded, clearly quite inebriated. Murtagh silently stepped up and punched Roran, hard, in the jaw.

Immediately, Katrina wrapped her arm around Murtagh's throat in a chokehold. Eragon swung at Galbatorix, savagely driving him backwards. He was dimly aware that Arya was grappling with Shruikan, and that Saphira was driving Thorn away with her ferocious kicks. She wore steel-toed combat boots, as well, as hardened leather gloves.

Eragon saw nothing but Galbatorix, heard nothing but Galbatorix, and knew nothing but Galbatorix. The room burst into confusion as people rushed to join the brawl. But for the most part, no one came near the two of them, locked in each other's grip, swinging each other about.

Galbatorix slammed Eragon into the wall, and then began pounding his midriff. Spots danced before Eragon's eyes, as he gasped for air, only for it to be knocked out of his lungs again. Suddenly, the brutal beating stopped.

Roran grappled with Galbatorix, crashing into things. Roran was the larger of the two, but his blows were clumsy and slow, due to the copious amounts of alcohol in his system. A few men held Roran's arms behind his back, while Galbatorix pounded him repeatedly.

Eragon seized the nearest thing to him and hurled it at Galbatorix's head. The target of the assault collapsed as a glass bottle of Absolut shattered over his skull.

One of the men holding Roran staggered away, holding his nose, which was bleeding from the impact between Roran's head and the man's nose.

Eragon stumbled through the chaos to Shruikan, swung him around, and smashed his fist into the tall African man's temple.

Seizing Arya by the waist, he helped her out of the door. Roran staggered out after them, Katrina slung over his shoulder. Together, the thrashed group stumbled to their respective vehicles.

Eragon began to race back into the building, but Thorn's unconscious body flew the doors, followed by Saphira striding out purposefully. And thus, Eragon hopped in his dented truck and drove away.

**Raudhr Blodhgarm has instructed me to inform you that he is deeply apologetic about the lateness of the chapter, and any lack of quality that may arise. He would also like to thank Ghostling for reviewing his "awful" Grinch story, which is on hiatus, as well as all stories save Alagaesia High School and a Tale of Three Druids. I would also like to inform all of you that I warn Ghostling against suggesting that I am a bad secretary, and that I did not plant the hidden sticky bomb in her house that may coincidentally detonate if such a suggestion occurs again. Entirely by chance.**

** -With many implied threats and death wishes (Not mine, yours),**

** Scott, founder of Scotland. (That's a long story.)**

**Hello, it's me, the author, just letting all of you know something. Sometimes I think I've gone insane. The rest of the time I'm sure. Or, as Scott puts it, Sometimes, my mast- I mean boss doubts his sanity. Then I wonder what he thinks the rest of the time. By the way, I have a rather obscene lack of morals and am very mercurial. I also devised a scheme to make more money than any other person my age. I buy a sheet of plywood. This costs 20$. Then I buy some paint, colours copper, gold, silver, and purple. I buy a dragon head stencil, as well as an eagle head one, and 10 belts. The total cost is 75$. Then, I cut the 8x4 sheet of plywood into 4 large rectangles and 16 small ones. The large is double the size of the small. I round the corners, and slice the belts into short straps. I attach these straps to the wood in a manner of shield handles. I paint the four large ones gold, and stencil a silver dragon head in the center. I paint four small ones silver, with a gold dragon head. I paint four small ones copper, with a silver eagle head. Finally, I paint the last small ones purple, and carve runes in a border. Then, I sell all these at the farmers market, 30$ for large ones, and 20$ for small ones. The profit is $440. The net profit (So deducting the cost of manufacture), is 365$. A batch. This is happening, right now, people. I also have Groose Almighty working for me, for $5 an hour. I am not in high school yet! Thus, I do believe that I am the coolest damn person that ever walked this earth. At least in the last 50 years. Steve Jobs invented the Internet, in case nobody knows.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 9**

**I am dreadfully sorry for waiting this long to upload, I was busy, please forgive the author. As recompense for my slow-moving ways, this chapter will be an awesome one. Now, I shall recognize my reviewers.**

**The Ghost Who Walks/ theghostwhowalksintheshadows: Thank you for the reviews, I appreciate all of them, and also many thanks for helping me get reviewers. Kinda weird, that people didn't review that chapter. I was of the opinion that it was my best one. Well, my second best one. But, under the assumption that you are my only reviewer now, good job getting the team. I have reviewed your story, which I liked. I can come off sounding really critical. You're my best reviewer. Scott would like to speak now.**

**Hello. I would like to inform you that my hideout has been burned, bombed, disintegrated, and for the heck of it, I left a nearly perfect vacuum there to suck up around the size of my hideout. And maybe all of North America. But it's a very small chance.**

Garrow slammed his head into the table when his bedraggled family limped in. "Why is it, that every time you go somewhere, everyone gets thrashed?" He had demanded, to a simple response from Roran.

"Because I stand up for myself and my friends." He had said bluntly. Garrow had shot him a glare, but fetched the bandages and antiseptic cream. And some alcohol.

Garrow grinned at Roran, then began rubbing the fluid into all of his cuts. Roran winced as the fluid burned, but he knew that this was preferable to infection. Probably. It still hurt like the devil itself. That stirred memories. Eragon saying it to Izlanzadi after Roran had bashed her. Arya.

Roran's head snapped around and he quickly asked Eragon "Where's Arya? Did you see her leave?" Eragon nodded, cringing as the alcohol cleansed the wound.

Garrow cleared his throat and declared frankly "We're going to jump them. Well, not me, but you lot. It's time. Go get some of your friends together and you can thrash them to your heart's content. Remember; go for the midsection, so the bruises won't show. Gather friends tomorrow, and then get 'em as they walk home." A savage grin lit up Garrow's face. "Been a long time since someone got in a street fight with our family. I almost miss it."

Eragon surveyed the faces watching him. Some were familiar, some weren't.

Catching a particularly familiar face, he grinned and called out "Ghostie! I can't remember the last time I saw you." The white haired girl whirled around at his voice and grinned.

"I couldn't resist when I heard you were recruiting to jump someone. But I wish it was someone else…" She trailed off uncertainly. Eragon raised an eyebrow, but let it be. He had no interest in his friend's past with Murtagh.

He continued surveying the faces, catching Orik's eyes. Eragon nodded to him. He was glad that he would have the stocky man at his side. Others stood around, staring at the ground or grinning defiantly.

Raudhr Blodhgarm, a tall senior, strode into the group, everyone parting before him. Raudhr was not to be messed around with, and had scars on his face that hinted at a violent past. His purple eyes searched the group, his flecks of gold in them attracting much attention. He sighed and turned to Eragon.

"Most of them'll split once you jump 'im. The others have got fire in 'em." He stated, gesturing at Ghostie, "She's got fire." He smirked. "I used to have iron in me. Then it became steel." He growled, and addressed the group, filling them in on how it would work.

He grinned and loped away, ducking into a "Porta-dumper". Everybody scampered into hiding spots along the road, grinning or shaking from nerves. Eragon leaned against a wall, waiting. His nerves began to fray and he glanced at the all the concealed high-schoolers.

Suddenly, a huge weight crashed into him, draining any breath he had from his lungs. A fist pounded his lip, and blood flowed into Eragon's mouth. The weight of his attacker was lifted easily, and Eragon gasped to fill his chest with sweet air. He sat up, looking at his assailant.

Murtagh dangled from Raudhr's powerful arms, his lanky hair obscuring his eyes. Eragon seized his chin and forced Murtagh to look at him. The glared at each other, tension filling the alley like molasses. Eragon uttered one word, a word so charged with betrayal, hurt, adrenaline, and victory. "Why?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 10**

**B) - That is a smiley face. I have digitally smiled because of some amazing-ness called reviewing! YEAH! Everybody loves reviewers! Heck, I've come to a point where I welcome Flames! I collect 'em and make bonfires! FIRE! New reviewers! I am infinitely pleased, and will demonstrate it by quoting Shakespeare- "A fool thinks himself wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool." Thus making me a fool. Now responses to my amazing reviewers!**

**Awesome Person: Er…**

**Theghostwhowalksintheshadows: It is so hard to resist spacing while typing that. Microsoft Word's spelling and grammar hate it when I do that. And I am so, dreadfully, soul-eatingly, flesh-flayingly absolute death to small children-y sorry about how long that chappie took. I had no good reason. *Shameface* If anyone finds it in their hearts to forgive me, please do. I have a title now! "The Grinch of Valentine's Day!" Groose Almighty is the Scrooge. Well, onto other reviewers. Thanks and all that, keep writing, don't let the muggles get you down. And, forgive my ignorance, what is OOC?**

**Separate Entity: I do like Brom's throw-rock-iness. YEAH! Also, thank you for appreciating any subtle humor in the story. And the not very subtle humor. Angela will return, and her scientific discoveries will blow Eragon (or whoever) away! HOO-RAH! I'm caps-ing a lot.**

**Addle: Thank you. I appreciate the praise. But remember, the more people con-crit me, the better I get.**

"Why?" Eragon asked simply, his eyes boring into Murtagh's.

Murtagh shuddered, mumbled a bit, and then the words poured out like a thundering river "I''tsobadbutthen"-

"Whoa!" Raudhr roared, clamping a hand around Murtagh's mouth. "Slowly."Raudhr instructed gruffly.

Murtagh gulped and slowly muttered "They threatened Thorn. They said I would now who did it when I found Thorn unconscious on the streets." He looked up at Eragon. "You know how that is. You and Saphira. I helped him beat somebody up, and he was really, you know, cool. I thought maybe it wasn't so bad. But then, he thrashed this little kid, and I stood up for the little guy, and he broke Thorn's arm."

Eragon held up his hand, motioning for Murtagh to stop. "You do mean Galbatorix by 'he', correct?" Murtagh nodded. "Alright." Eragon sighed. A wry chuckle escaped his lips. "I was really looking forward to thrashing you, but you went and made me feel all guilty. Let him go." Eragon gestured at Raudhr.

Murtagh hunched his shoulders, like a turtle retreating into its shell, and strode away. The group dissipated, leaving Eragon sitting on a recycling bin.

"MY LORD, CAN YOU NOT WIN A FIGHT FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE?" Garrow roared, pointing at Eragon's swollen lip. "YOU HAD FRICKIN' EIGHTEEN PEOPLE, BUT YOU STILL GOT THRASHED! WHY? WHY?" Eragon ducked as Garrow hurled an orange at his head.

"He jumped outta nowhere!" Eragon cried, his arms raised in defense. Garrow drew breath for a withering reply but the opening bars to "I am the Doctor" rolled out of Eragon's pocket. "NMRRPG." Eragon whispered, and dashed off to armor himself.

The burdened high-schooler flew down the streets at breakneck speed on his "dragon", Saphira hunched over her bike next to him. Whipping through the gates to the park, he squeezed the brakes. The front brakes to be specific.

One might speculate if it is even possible for a human being on a bicycle to complete a full front flip at speeds of over 50 mph. However, many residents of Carvahall can speak from experience that it is possible, and there is a recorded instance of its occurrence. Eragon would be one of them, as would his splintered helmet. He keeps the shards in a jar as reminder that the front brakes are malicious and seek every opportunity to shatter your skull.

A weak groan drifted from his lips, his eyes closed. "Dear lord, that scary as"- he was cut off by Izzy slapping him, hard, in the face.

"DON'T YOU DARE DIE, ERAGON GARROWSON, OR I WILL BE FORCED TO KILL YOU!" she shrieked, the squeal piercing the night as easily as a well honed arrow. Eragon, through an epic battle of wills, managed to restrain himself from pointing out the obvious contradiction in the sentence. Instead, he just moaned.

"I prefer an ice pack to feral screams. I'm told they're better for the health." Faolin's witty voice mocked. Chuckles broke out throughout the assembled group, quickly hushed as they glanced back at Eragon.

The stricken junior stumbled to his feet, seizing a random freshie's shoulder for support. He roared and bellowed "We are not missing another practice, damn concussions. Let's go kick each other's"-

"butts." Faolin finished dryly, in an attempt to avoid profanity. Eragon smirked, and hefted his blade. "Five!" he called.

"Four!" Arya replied, followed by a subsequent series of a three from Nasuada, two from Roran, and one from Faolin.

A wordless roar of defiance shattered the calm, and the dull thud if PVC crashing into flesh and other PVC rang out over the courtyard. Eragon found himself swept away by a concoction of adrenaline, violence, swearing, and injury. A surprisingly stimulating combination, Eragon thought as his powerful arms brought Brisingr to bear on an unsuspecting elf. The numbers thinned on both sides, until only a select few still stood standing. Eragon limped away, clutching a bruised thigh.

On either side of him Jormundur and Nasuada held their swords ready, lips curled in a snarl. Spread out through their ranks were also Ghostie, Raudhr (clutching a massive battle-ax, a merry twinkle in his eye), and Orik. Faolin sneered as he surveyed the survivors. For the elves, several soldiers stood unharmed, as well as Arya, Izzy and him.

Even as he contemplated this, Dathedr chuckled. "You are clearly outnumbered, Varden."

Raudhr chortled and replied jovially "But you are clearly outmatched!"

Dathedr sighed theatrically. "You have sealed your fate, Blodhgarm."

Raudhr grinned and hollered "And you yours, friend."

The Elves began to spread out into a circle around the Varden, clutching their weapons. A stray arrow flew through the air and struck Dathedr with a dull thud. "BOOM! THAT'S A HEAD SHOT SON! I'M AN ARCHER PRO, SO COME AND COME AND GET SOME!" Blodhgarm roared, and slammed the blade of his hefty axe into the fork of an elf soldier's legs. The butt of the weapon struck another in the temple, sending them reeling. Arya and Faolin leapt at the warrior, they blades flickering towards him. One struck his ax, the other struck home. Specifically around the place he had bludgeoned the elf soldier.

The battle dissolved into pairs dueling each other, focused on their foe and foe alone, forgetting that just two feet away a pitched battle was waged. Eragon struggled to keep Izzy and two other elven warriors from overwhelming him. A lucky blow downed Izzy, Orik's axe struck another's back, and the last simply fled. He grinned, reveling in his victory, when a sword driven into the small of his back sent him crumpling to the ground.

Faolin sneered, and dashed away. Varden fell, as did elves, until the only ones standing were Arya and Faolin. They turned to each, grinned, and kissed passionately. Eragon's blood boiled, and he bunched his legs to spring, when an iron hand seized his collar and pulled him away.

Eragon found himself right next to Raudhr, their faces inches apart. "You think the broad'll like you more 'cuz ya jumped her boyfriend?" he shook his head. "I've made a pass at more girls than you can imagine, kid, and sometimes I think I know what makes 'em tick more than they do. Leave it be. There are other fishes in the sea." Raudhr smiled ruefully. "Unfortunately, you and I are stranded in a desert, aren't we? Nowhere near the sea." He snarled, and released Eragon. Eragon glanced back at Arya and Faolin holding hands. He shook his head in disgust.

I hate my life, he thought.

**And you thought it was mindless fluff! Surprise! Faolin and her get together! The temptation to stop writing here immense, and leave it at this. Make it a Faolin and Arya fic. Ya'll must review with your opinions! I am very torn. Damn torn, in fact. Well, if you don't give me feedback, it ends here. So review unless you're a huge FaolinxArya shipper. But review anyways.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 11: Not the End**

Pinched the bridge of his nose, Eragon contemplated the events of last night. It had gone well, in the beginning. Then, it had steadily deteriorated. Culminating in Arya kissing a ball of slime in humanoid form.

So now, he had some options. He could sit here and mope (he was inclined to follow this option). Or, as Roran suggested, he could win her back by being faithful to her. Or, he could look for someone else, as Raudhr suggested. Eragon had agreed to this until he remembered Arya's brilliant emerald eyes and the fact that Raudhr had no soul. Or morals. Or ethics, etc.

Eragon took another sip of his coffee. One thing he knew. He had to do something, and soon, because a fiery ball of rage had burst in his collarbone that night and it had been rising to the surface. Fast. Why, this morning, he had snapped at Saphira so brutally that she had slapped him.

Eragon did what all men do in times of great indecision. He flipped a coin.

Well, he did a certain maneuver with a coin that made it likely that it would land on its side. Okay, he thought, heads, I mope, tails, I go all Labrador retriever on her, side, I look for a new girl. He spun it, watching the light dance merrily of it. It slowly stopped. On its side. Eragon sighed and knocked it over so that the tails insignia was facing skyward.

He rose and prepared himself for the groveling that was to come.

**All is not as it seems, so stay tuned! And this isn't the end, just an intermission. Chappie ten isn't the end, but anyone can read it that way. I have a sudden desire to make Saphira and Eragon get together, but I made them siblings, so I won't. Not that messed up. Made some additions to my bio, of anyone wants to check it out. I feel like thanking all reviewers for being uber-fantastically amazing, those who read but don't review are Duraqqs, (Losers in Russian), that is all.**

**Martha Jones: I LOVE YOU DOCTOR! **

**Doctor: BUT I DON'T LOVE YOU MARTHA! **

***Heartbreak***

How the hell did this happen, Eragon thought as shapes and people blurred past. He was slung over Raudhr's shoulder, who was sprinting to some god-forsaken place. Why? Nobody knows.

Suddenly, the world took a sickening lurch, and stopped. Raudhr dropped the junior unceremoniously, seized his chin, and directed his gaze to a girl standing in a large crowd. Eragon would have gaped if not for Raudhr's secure hold on his chin.

Wait, that was Arya! She was in a brilliant emerald dress, and chatting amiably with Faolin. The ball of fire that had been lurking in Eragon's chest flew to his throat. That was the dress she had worn to the club with him! He snarled "That bit"-

Raudhr cut him off by clamping his hand over Eragon's mouth. An impish smirk found its way into Raudhr's complexion. "Aren't you a fickle one? One moment you're completely devoted to her, the next she's, well, what I suspect you were about to say." He chuckled.

Eragon shot him a withering glare. Really, you are heartless, he thought, glancing up at Raudhr. Raudhr smirked and released Eragon, and ushered for him to go to her.

"What?" Eragon whispered, confused.

Raudhr grinned in a rather lewd manner. "Well, if you want to jump Faolin, go ahead. I ain't defending him. A little, ah, mishap occurred. All defense of him from me has been withdrawn. He is a son of bit"- Eragon jokingly covered Raudhr's mouth, though it had little effect.

Eragon rose, and prepared to sprint towards Faolin. However, his heart quailed when he thought about it. He would be able to deliver a nice punch, maybe two, but then he would be pounded to a pulp, and no closer to Arya.

He sighed and crouched back next to Raudhr. He really was beginning to hate Raudhr's smile.

"You, my friend, have been taught a life lesson, one that cannot be taught by words but only conveyed by experience. I've no idea how to put into words, but you get it, don't you?"

Eragon nodded mutely.

"Well, I'm off. Found this real nice girl, name of Trianna. We're totally together. She just doesn't know it yet." He stated, jogging towards a girl with a notable silver snake bracelet.

Eragon sighed, and just lay on the grass. He felt like frickin' Arthur Dent. It was not a nice feeling. He was sure that Raudhr felt like the Doctor, and Faolin the cat that got the cream. He sighed deeply and piteously.

A giggling female voice chattered over him. He grunted, and twisted his head to observe who it was. Raudhr had slung the girl he had observed earlier over his shoulder and was sauntering away. The sight was so amusing that Eragon couldn't help but laugh. Arya turned her head at the sound of his laughter, and searched for the source of his amusement. She too burst into gales of merriment as she caught sight of Raudhr hauling his prize away, who was notably complacent. Faolin joined in, and soon everyone was chuckling at the scene.

Eragon prayed he and Arya could still be friends, at the very least, though he knew that he would eternally long to be more than a friend to her.

**Well, nothing much, but a nice little FxA if I do say so myself. Once again, I find myself tempted to leave it here. Time to set up a poll! Also review with your opinions, because if there are no reviews it ends here. I think Raudhr's done, I mean as a main character, but maybe not. This was supposed to be an ExA fic, after all, and is turning out to be something else. Well, they may get together, but it won't be meaningless fluff. An actual plot! Interesting, it seems I just can't abide by fluff and one-shots. Have to have some real stuff. I could never, even if I tried, write a one-shot. I mean, really, there's no plot in them. How can there be, they're only one chapter! By the way, I will start writing my Brom fic once this is done, in a addition to my tennis with Groose Almighty.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 12**

**Thanks to reviewers. Here's your little note.**

**Du Hjlodhr Sundavar: Not sure if you technically reviewed, but you PM'ed me, which is enough. Just a little thanks to you, I hope you like the chapter. Oh, and make absolutely sure to check out and review "A Tale of Three Druids." PLEASE! **

**Axel 19: Well, it's a work in progress, so the characters that are in love will change. A lot. But, really, I think it's a FxA at heart. But I dunno. Next chapter's gonna come out either really anti ExA or really ExA. It just depends.**

**Magneseus: That was a very nice review. I appreciate that you think my fic is snarky. And yay for getting my references. That's all. Just a little thank you.**

**Time's-A-Tickin: Well, I try. Thanks for the very friendly review, and I hope that you managed to leech a few reviewers off me. Well, not really. Anyways, thanks!**

**ExA-mazing: I really sometimes wish that this story would just turn out a FxA or ExA and get it over with. Fat chance of that happening.**

**Rozelyn: Well, what I said to just about every other ExA fan.**

**VoXR: Thanks for not dropping this if it gets FxA. Just thanks.**

**Separate Entity: Lots and lots of reviews! Thank you!**

**AndyKFantasyLover: Thanks for the review. SO MANY REVIEWS. 0.0**

**YIKES! So many reviewers! You make me so happy.**

Once again, Eragon found himself moping in his room. He sighed. Why is it, he asked himself, that he was so brutally unable to, if he couldn't get a girl, avoid those who did?

For one, Katrina was at the house about as much as Roran was. Raudhr, the ever cheerful imp, was ridiculously flirty with Trianna, (not a fun thing to see), and of course, Arya was still determined to be his friend. Which was hard with Faolin lurking around her shoulder.

Damn it all! He snarled silently. If he couldn't occupy himself with the happier things in life, he'd just go hone his NMRRPG skills. Rising from his seat, he wandered to find Roran. Found him making out with Katrina in the closet. Damn.

Okay, he thought, closing the closet door, I could ask Saphira. Jogging outside, he heard her voice in the tool shed. Of all the places, he thought, flinging open the door. And there she was, kissing some freshie Eragon didn't even know. "WHAT THE HELL?" Eragon roared, slamming the shed door.

Growling rather pungent words under his breath, he stalked the ranch, thinking of a viable NMRRPG partner. As tempting as it was to challenge Faolin, he doubted the wisdom of handing his ex's boyfriend a sword and attacking. He could always challenge Arya, but that would simply be too awkward. All right, as foolish as this is, he decided, I'll challenge Raudhr.

Hopping on his bike, he wandered the area, just, in a way, meandering for Raudhr. When he did ride past the senior, he already had his ax in his hands. To Eragon's surprise, Trianna, who trailed behind him, carried a quarterstaff.

"Hello! It would seem that you fine fellows would be armed for combat, as am I. Perhaps a little diversion would be wise, no?" He queried, clicking into role-playing mode.

Raudhr seemed inclined to do the same, calling out "Would that be a challenge, Garrowson? I am inclined to put you in your place, upstart!"

Once again surprising Eragon, Trianna followed suit, saying "I will join you in this fray, and teach you both the might of the clan Hardt!" Dismounting very slowly and deliberately, Eragon slid on his thick leather gauntlets.

"Bid your fame adieu, friends, for today I shall shame you!" He cried, slinging Brisingr from its baldric across his back. He crouched, backing away. Trianna immediately lashed out at Raudhr, the butt of her staff striking the shaft of his ax. Raudhr roared and swung the weapon in a wide arc, sending her scurrying away.

"I see you sneaking, Garrowson!" the senior bellowed, turning to Eragon, who was attempting to flank the heavily built warrior. As Raudhr charged, Eragon slung his shield from its place on his back onto his arm. Sliding the flat of his blade behind the shield, he lunged at Raudhr, who was bearing down on him like the wrath of the gods. As they collided, two things happened.

The first, Eragon bounced backwards, as did Raudhr. The second, more important thing that happened, was that Raudhr's axe struck the aforesaid senior in the forehead, dazing him.

Eragon instinctively knew to flee, for one reason only. He didn't know where Trianna was.

Even as he dove, the staff he had seen earlier struck his ankles, and a sick snapping noise floated up to Eragon. He roared with pain, tears springing to his eyes. He was dimly aware that Raudhr was tending to him. The whole world seemed hazy, everything imbued with pain.

Raudhr said something, and suddenly his ankles burst into fire. He screamed, he cried, anything to make it stop. Then, suddenly, life-savingly, miraculously, the pain went away. He gasped, tears of relief pouring down his face. Looking at his feet, he found that Raudhr had set the injury. Staggering to his feet, he thanked Raudhr.

Suddenly, a life-altering thought hit Eragon. A cruel grin played at his lips. Yes, it was dangerous. Yes, it had massive potential to go wrong. And yes, it meant seeing Arya.

**Bum-ba-dum! I am dreadfully sorry for how long this chapter took, I had no good reason. I mean really, it wasn't even long, or for that matter, good. But, I use this chapter as a gateway to the glorious realm of "The Next Chapter!" Well, BAI.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 13**

**Well, somebody's gonna hate this chapter. Actually, at least two. Now, it's time for ya'll to wonder. I find it suitable that 13 will be my most controversial chapter yet. *Troll Face* Now, to recognize my brilliant reviewers. **

**Du Hjlodhr Sundavar: Well, feel free to eviscerate him. I won't mind. Thanks, and enjoy this wonderful chapter. (You'll hate it at parts, but love it at others.)**

**Axel 19: You idiot, I'm responding to you, not quoting you. I was informing you what I think will happen. And no, I'm not a hater, so I didn't use your name to say something you disagree with.**

**ExA-mazing: Look, bro, what I said to Ghostie but without the evisceration. You'll love it sometimes, hate it at others.**

**VoXR: Many thanks, friend. Well, here is aforesaid "next chapter."**

**Ever running: YES! New reviewer! And trust me, here's your update.**

Eragon flipped open his Samsung phone and began keying in letters at a rate only teenagers can match. Well, that and he only used half of the letters he should have.

"Hay Arya I m goin' 2 suprse u. Trst me it wll be lol." He grinned and prepared for the adventure he had planned.

Fedora? Check. Trench coat? Check. Swag? Double check.

Tip-toeing as best he could to Saphira's tent, he rapped on a support pole. He knew she would be awake; she usually stopped listening to Metallica at around midnight. Her spiky blue hair poked out of the flap, a questioning look on her face. "I'm going out," he explained. "so don't raise the alarm if you hear the gate open." She nodded, and withdrew to her headquarters. He sighed with relief.

A few years ago, some teenagers had tried to egg the house and let the livestock run loose. Saphira had intercepted them. Eragon shuddered. He had awoke to their pants hanging on the fence post.

As he shut the gate, he jumped onto his bike and pedaled away, a determined look on his face. He checked the addresses as he went. He had obtained Arya's address from the lady herself, at the movies. He grimaced. And then somehow, a low-minded imbecile had wooed her.

He clenched his fists around the handlebars. Unfortunately, he squeezed the front brake. His yelp cleaved the silent night as the bike flipped, leaving Eragon gasping to regain his breath on the ground. Lights flickered on in the house next to Arya's and Eragon dragged his dark bike into some scenic tall grass and lay prone, his eyes locked on the light. A middle-aged man poked his head out the door, glanced around a bit, and withdrew his scraggly head. Eragon counted to sixty under his breath, his breath sounding unnaturally loud in the still night air. Once he was sure that the citizens of the street had resumed their sleep, he crept stealthily from the waving grass, but left his bike there.

Arya woke to a soft noise on her window. She shook her self awake and peered out the window. What she saw nearly gave her a heart attack. Eragon stood on the ground just below her window, a cheeky grin on his face. Once she got over her cardiac arrest, she chuckled. Just like Eragon, she thought, to "suprse her lke tis."

When she next looked out the window, Eragon was actually climbing the wall, using the rough bricks as handholds. She rushed to fetch a key, but Eragon motioned for her to stop. Once his face was level with her second-story window, he rummaged about in his pocket for a while. He produced something that looked like a key, to which Arya responded by raising her eyebrows, which quite clearly said _And why the hell to you have keys to my bedroom window? _He shook his head, and, after fiddling with it for a while, split the blade in two. She then realized that it was a lock-picking kit.

After a few moments, Eragon was standing in her room, shutting the window to stem the chilly breeze. "The key to all doors," he announced proudly. She chuckled.

"Why is it that suddenly, I feel like installing a three-tumbler, hair-trigger lock on my window?" she asked jokingly.

"Well, isn't somebody well-versed on the art of lock-picking themselves?" Eragon demanded, feigning surprise. She just chuckled and pulled a rope dangling from her ceiling.

A trap door opened, resulting in Eragon gasping and muttering "Holy crap." She seized the rope and hauled herself onto the roof, leaning back on her elbows, gazing at the stars. Eragon followed, his natural athletic grace granting him an easy passage up. Mimicking Arya's pose, he observed the Greek constellations.

"What was that astronomer smoking when he thought that," he gestured at the stars of Orion, "looked like a hunter?" This earned him a satisfying full-blown laugh from Arya. He drifted into silence, simply enjoying Arya's company. Finally, a glance at his watch goaded him into action. He gulped.

Here came the hard part. "One might consider such a scene romantic, if there were, persay, poetically inclined." He mentioned, too nervous to take a direct route. Arya sighed.

"I'm sure I'm going to regret this, but for once Eragon, please just be direct. Are you asking me out?" she asked plainly, turning her head to look at him. He grunted.

"Yes." He answered meekly, cowed by her bluntness.

"Then no." she responded, staring him down. "I still want to be your friend, but I really like Faolin, and you're simply going to have to deal with that. If you cannot accept that I'm dating Faolin and will be for some time, then I want nothing to do with you."

The look on Eragon's face made her wish she had taken a more diplomatic approach. The grief-stricken junior muttered something like "Okay." and made for the trap door.

"Oh hell no." she snarled, seizing his wrist. He stared into her eyes, and they reached an unspoken contract. Something very amazing happened next.

**Whoa. That was, my friends, quite possibly my favorite chapter to write. I had all this planned up a while ago, when it was still a definite ExA. Obviously, with some minor alterations, but same gist. And I think that that's a fair cliff-hanger. Well, it's tempting to just leave it here, let all ya'll's imaginations go wild, but I won't. I have a very clever plan forming, and I'd love to put it into action. Well, R&R, because 1) I write the chappies faster, and 2) you are recognized for your epic skills at the top of the next chapter. YAY FOR REVIEWERS!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 14**

**Bam! Super-early update! That's what weekends do to you. However, I'll be biking most of today, so, you know, next chappie may be a bit late.**

**Axel 19: Sorry about getting really aggressive, not really sure what got into me. Well, my friend did thrash a kid that day, so, adrenaline and all that. Thanks for the review! Can't wait for the review counter to load!**

**Magneseus: Well, actually, there's no slash in my stories, so no ExF, but I assume you mean FxA. So yeah, let's see what goes down! Thanks for the review.**

**Times-a-tickin: Well, forgive me; I'm a big cliffy guy. But do not fear, the chapter is up already! Thanks for the review.**

**VoXR: Well, here's the chapter that will answer your questions. Thanks for the review.**

**Du Hjlodhr Sundavar: Yeah, I would have loved to get Eragon maced, but alas, I have a nice little shenanigan planned. I honestly think this is T, please tell me if you agree, if nothing but for swearing. Yes, OSE (Obsessed Stalker-ish Ex) has been rejected, but now, we shall see what comes to pass.**

**HERE WE GOOOOOOO…**

"Good for you." Eragon said, his eyes gleaming. And he was entirely sincere. He had no guile, no bitterness, only happiness for Arya in his voice. "I can accept that," he continued, "so long as Faolin can accept that we're friends." Arya nodded. As if Faolin didn't already accept Eragon's presence.

"Well," he declared, shaking himself off, "Garrow's up at four every morning, so I'd rather not rouse suspicion by walking in while he's eating breakfast." He rose, and hopped back into Arya's room. He unlatched the window, which was now unlocked, and began his descent down, leaving Arya to ponder.

However, her thoughts were interrupted by a yelp and a dull thud. She ran over to the window, peering down. Eragon lay unconscious on the lawn, a small pool of blood by his head. Arya jumped over the windowsill herself and slid down, grimacing as she scraped her fingers. She seized his head, examining it. He had simply bashed his head on a rock, but she needed to get him home.

She laid him across the back of his bike, mounted it, and started pedaling as hard as she could. However, the strain was great due to the two passengers. She began to pant, her lungs screaming for more oxygen.

Immediately, Arya resorted to the method she always used to prevent herself from passing out of oxygen starvation. She thought about the science of cellular respiration and fermentation, and why her muscles burned so much. When the pain began to crowd out these thoughts, she ran over the Quadratic formulas in her head. –b + or – the square root of b squared x -4ac, all over 2a.

She almost missed the gate to Eragon's ranch when she saw it. She pumped her legs harder, peering in each window.

Suddenly, a massive force knocked her bike sideways. She found herself held down by Saphira, a snarl on her face. She resisted the urge to kick the larger girl off, instead whispering "Eragon fell and hit his head. I need you to tell me which room is Roran's." Saphira simply nodded, the snarl melting off her face. She seized Arya's forearm, and led her around to a non-distinct window.

Nodding once, she trotted back to her tent, a satisfied look on her face. Arya knocked on the window, praying that Roran wasn't a heavy sleeper. Fortunately, he wasn't. He peered out the window, and jumped back when he saw Arya standing right there.

She pulled Eragon's "Key to all Doors" out of her pocket and, with some difficulty, opened the window. She propped Eragon against the window sill, but he was too heavy for her to carry. Roran grasped his brother's shoulders and dragged him into the house.

"He was at my house, and he fell and hit his head. He'll be fine, just make it seem that he hurt himself here." She murmured breathlessly. Roran nodded, and set his brother/cousin by the doorway. He shooed Arya away. Arya heard Roran holler for Garrow, and footsteps in the house as she trotted away.

**Unfortunately short, but a rather good one if I do say so myself. It isn't a gateway chappie, but next chapter should be good. I need ideas on who to pair Eragon with! I'll set up a poll.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Alagaesia High**

**Chapter 15**

**Yes, it's me, and yes, this chapter is unduly late. Forgive me. Life hits. HARD. But, it's here now, so enjoy it.**

**Du Hjlodhr Sundavar: Well, I don't hate him as much either. Oh, by the way, me promise me no pedophile. On a less disturbing note, Murtagh is probably done with his character. He's been concluded. So, now, the question is, how the hell am I going to hook up Ery and Nassy? Please help me. *In pitiful voice***

**Axel 19: Well, nope. No more ExA. I shudder to think of the reviews I'll lose, but, alas, I think I'll make an ExA sometime later. It's definite now. NO ExA. Sorry. Well not really. Because I personally like the FxA, though I've never looked into NxE. Kinda weirds me out, honestly. Actually, Eragon shall be single. Ignore everything else. I do not, I repeat, do not, like NxE. So who knows? Certainly not me.**

**VoXR: Thanks for the positive review; I actually smashed my helmet while biking. 0.o**

**Mattchew Inheritance: Well, Arya's staying with Faolin. End of story. And thanks for the gratifying praise.**

**ExA: You seem docile. I would have expected flames from you of all people by now. I mean, your name is ExA, and it's not an ExA story, so…**

**The M.H.T. of R: On Word, there is a symbol. FF, not so much. I must figure out a good symbol!**

**Axel 19: (again) Honestly, I wish there were skillful writers out there kicking my butt, to drive me forward, but I fear I've grown complacent in my pride. Ugh. Hipster writer is ashamed of himself.**

Eragon lunged forward, gasping, cold sweat beading his brow. "What the hell?" he panted, twisting to take in his surroundings.

First of all, he was naked. Thank God for bedclothes.

Second, he was in a house he recognized. Gertrude's house! Of course.

She was, by training, a teacher, but seemed more efficient at healing a wound up than the most expensive doctors, so Eragon knew he was in good hands.

The sheets were a homespun linen, rough and coarse against his skin. He grimaced.

He scanned the room for his jeans, but realized that, knowing Gertrude, they were most likely folded, washed, all the holes sewn up, and probably even ironed.

The room was decorated to reflect Gertrude's Mexican heritage. The colors that were once bright were now faded and dismal, but carried a sense of homeliness with them, due to sleeping in this house several nights when his house flooded, which happened saddeningly often.

Gertrude bustled in, a ball of life. She plopped, and truly plop is the best word to describe it, plopped into a rough wooden chair and began clicking away with her sewing needles.

"Er…" Eragon stared at Gertrude.

"Your friends will be here shortly." She replied, then added, almost as an afterthought, "Let's hope one of them had enough foresight to bring you clothes!" Eragon sighed.

A thought struck Eragon, and he twisted around to look at Gertrude. "How many days of school have I missed?" he demanded, glaring at the energetic Mexican woman.

"Why, the cheek of you young people! Of course you would have been at school! It's a Saturday, of course." She scoffed. Eragon sighed in relief. Brom would have assigned any extra push-ups he could have if Eragon had been absent.

Roran trudged in, tossed Eragon a Hershey's bar, and trudged out. Eragon glanced at the chocolate in his lap. "What's his beef?" Eragon asked, dumbfounded by Roran's hostility.

"Well, when he found you, well, Katrina, was with him, and- Oh you get the picture!" She cried, and then fixed her gaze on her needles. Eragon chuckled. He had suspected that Roran and Katrina were spending nights in the same house. Garrow, apparently, was not pleased.

Next, Saphira tore into the room, dragged a chair next to the bed, and slammed into it. Judging by her demeanor, she was not going to move. Eragon ruffled her neon blue hair affectionately, and was rewarded by an affectionate, though still painful, punch on the arm. He leaned over and kissed his sister on the forehead, a gesture that had been a silent 'Good to see you' for as long as they could remember. She slid him an Irish Cream truffle, Eragon's favorite candy. He turned to Saphira. "Where did the money come from for this?" he asked gently, fearing its source. "Oh little one, I've been saving up cash from my McSlave job for a gift to you, and I found that this was a good time and place." She replied, patting his shoulder. He grinned, and tucked into his pocket. He intended to save this for later.

Arya slid in to the room, Eragon's eyes following her every movement. She just sat in a chair, seemingly, for once, lost for words.

"Thanks for showing." Eragon said, though his body language and the gleam in his eye showed so much more. Subtext that Gertrude would most certainly be aghast to know. The whole shenanigan with Eragon at Arya's house. Eragon chuckled under his breath. Gertrude would indeed be shocked at that news. Arya smirked. Clearly her mind was entertained with the same thoughts. She swept out of the room, graceful and lithe as a lynx.

To Eragon's surprise, Faolin jogged into the room, patted Eragon on the head, and left. Eragon scratched his head, perplexed. Unfortunately, he scratched where the rock had gashed his head. He yelped in pain, but quickly stifled his exclamation in order to avoid catching Gertrude's attention.

Then, even more surprising than Faolin's appearance, Murtagh strode in. "God, everyone's concerned for my health." Eragon muttered. "Well, forgive the devil spawn for caring." Murtagh shot back sarcastically, and tossed a Hershey's bar to Eragon. "Eat it. You'll feel better." Murtagh quoted, smirking. He jogged out of the room, leaving Eragon dumbstruck.

He sighed. Well, doesn't everyone just suddenly care, he thought. Saphira smirked. "Oh, they've always cared, little one."

**Okay, who wants it to end like this? I know I do! Time to set up, regrettably, yet another poll. I think that it shall be ExOC or no Eragon pairings at all. *Sighs* Sad face. Though, if this isn't the end, then next chapter will be. The Eragon vs. Galbatorix battle. NMMRPG style, of course. Well, farewell, and may all of you share in my happiness, but not my sadness. Because I was in a Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe play, and I miss Mrs. Beaver, and Mr. Beaver, and Lucy, and Aslan. They were amazing people.**


	16. The End the Final End

**Alagaesia High School**

**Chapter 16**

**I am soooooooooooooo sorry about being this late! SO SORRY! I don't expect forgiveness, just reviews. Now, recognition for those who stuck through my laziness (which is unforgivable)! Though, my Internet did go down for a fair amount of time, so I have some excuse.**

**Axel 19: Well, no ExA, but thanks for the review! Be prepared for some ExA friendship!**

**My Generation: *Sighs* Not sure why you took the time to review if you were going to say something stupid like that. Well, get a life or stop breathing valuable air!**

**VoXR: Thanks for the review, and I am only relieved that this story is going to wrap up. With, of course, a satisfying battle scene. I am never writing two stories at once again!**

**Axel 18: Well, hallo! Good to know that the chapter is even better the second time, and try writing something! It's hard work, but fun!**

**Du Hjlodhr Sundavar: I really hate NxE. REALLY hate it. But yeah, I suppose that Eragon shall be single. Oh well!**

**The M.H.T. of R: That chapter didn't quite feel right to me. And the thing you showed me actually disappears, I've tried it.**

**FightTillTheLastBreath: Well, here's the chapter, eh?**

Eragon circled Arya, sweat beading on his brow. She slid around him, concentration clear on her face.

Stepping forward, she brought the PVC blade whistling towards the taller boy's head. Leaping backwards, Eragon re-examined his opponent.

"Come on, both of you, this isn't Girl Scouts! Let's go! Let's go!" Glaedr barked, following their every movement. "C'mon, Eragon, Galbatorix would have ended this by now! Attack! Be decisive! Control the field!' The coach snapped, growing weary of Eragon's game of cat and mouse.

Eragon dove at Arya's knees, stabbing the blade directly forward. She staggered backwards, narrowly avoiding receiving a painful blow to the shins.

Glaedr snarled and seized a PVC spear. Hurling it at Eragon, he charged, using nothing but a dagger to drive the warrior back. Arya took the opportunity to strike, broadly slashing at the young teen. Eragon, too preoccupied fighting the coach, gasped as the blade collided with his ribcage. Sitting down, he grimaced.

"You have to be ready for anything!" His coach reprimanded him. "At any moment could one of his soldiers stop you mid-fray. You can't just expect to fight Galbatorix, you have to be ready to take on him plus a whole squad." Eragon bit back a withering response, and took a long draught of water.

This trio had been training for hours on end for the big tournament between the Empire and all the other teams. The pressure was on, and Glaedr reacted by ruthlessly driving Eragon and Arya into the ground with grueling training exercises, complete with a healthy dose of weightlifting.

"Glaedr, with all due respect, sir, wouldn't it be wise to allow us one day of rest before the tournament? It seems counter-productive to train us 'til we retch, for we'll be in a sorry shape to fight Galbatorix." Glaedr smirked.

"I'm giving you two. One, and you'd wake up with stiff muscles. Two, and you'll be fresh."

Eragon shook his head in confusion. "Sir, the tournament is tomorrow, so we don't have time for more rests."

Glaedr chuckled. "This is a rest day. Now up!"

Eragon sighed and drew his sword. The frays continued for hours on end, neither party willing to surrender to the other. Finally, Glaedr accepted that the warriors would need rest, and so he sent them on their way. Eragon jogged to his house, opening the door.

"Hey! Saphy! I need you!" he hollered. She peered around the corner of the house, grinning.

"I'm training." She said curtly, and swung back around the corner. Her brother sprinted around the corner, suddenly very sick of her new secretive attitude.

To his surprise, he found her with the green-wearing freshman from earlier, but they were both in NMRRPG gear. "Training? For what, may I ask?" Eragon asked with a sly grin.

"NMRRPG, Captain Pervert." She snapped, and turned her back. He shrugged and jogged into his house.

Pulling his shin guards and other padding off, he turned to the window, where he heard a noise. His jaw dropping, he stared at none other than Arya Drottningu! "Try not to strip yet, I want to talk to you." She said dryly.

Blushing deeply, Eragon muttered "Sorry."

She chuckled. "Look, I just wanted to say that the army is gonna stop by Braum's, you know, the one on Second and Boulevard? Yeah, that one. We're gonna either nurse our wounds or celebrate victory, but either way, I figure they'd want the AC to show." Eragon nodded.

He wasn't surprised that Nasuada had given him the position of Acting Captain. It was no secret that Eragon was the best soldier.

Arya gestured for Eragon to come closer. He sidled over obediently. She raised a cupped hand to her mouth and whispered in his ear "Be careful. I don't think I can deal with you getting hurt again." Eragon nodded to her. He had no intentions of letting Galbatorix touch him.

"Eat a good breakfast, get some sleep, don't get hung over, you know the drill." He waved her away. Closing the window, he watched her leave.

Pulling his jeans and shirt from his body, he lay on his bed, allowing all of his tensed muscles to unwind and relax. Without realizing it, the deep blanket of sleep enveloped him.

**Have some Part Two, with a dash of salt!**

"OI! Wake up sleeping beauty, I ain't gonna kiss ya!" Roran yelled, snapping Eragon out of his mid-day nap.

"Are you sure? They say I'm very handsome." Eragon replied, rolling out of bed.

Roran tossed the bedraggled warrior some clothes and snapped "Put some clothes on, it's time to milk the cows." Eragon cocked his head.

"Is Uncle indisposed?" Roran turned back to his younger cousin.

"He's quite busy making your dinner, ya ingrate. Now get to work, damn you!" Eragon sighed and slipped on a smock.

Jogging outside, he observed his great empire. Four cows, a llama, two horses, a pig, plenty of goats, and assorted farm tools. He began milking the cows. Wiping his hands on the soiled smock, he glanced at his watch.

"Dinner should be ready by now!" He shouted to his cousin, who was busy trying to calm down the Megs, one of their goats.

"I find your observation irrelevant! Now if you don't mind," he seized one of Megs's legs, narrowly avoiding an excruciating kick, "I'd appreciate it if ya went back to work!" Eragon shrugged and moved on to the next cow. After another hour, he stood up.

"Dinner must be ready by now!" The younger boy cried.

"Well, it's not, so keep milking the damn cows!" His brother snarled.

"I've already milked the cow, sheared the llama, fed the horses, AND watered Raudhr! What else is there to do?" Eragon demanded, gesticulating wildly.

"Dig out some brush! We're having a bonfire tomorrow!" He responded, clearly fed up with Megs trying to injure him.

"What about dinner?" The younger boy asked, still wanting an answer.

"GET TO WORK!" His older brother roared. Eragon stomped away, grumbling under his breath. Seizing a hoe, he began hacking at the roots of an old dead bush.

Garrow poked his head out of the window and rang a bell, signaling dinner. Sprinting to the house, Eragon tossed aside the implement.

Slipping inside the cracked door, he gaped at the food arrayed before him. Mashed potatoes, cheese, honey-roasted ham, tomato basil soup, and many other great dishes were arrayed before him. Such a feast was laid out before him, Eragon actually doubted the reality of this moment.

Garrow smirked and said "Yes, it's real, and yes, it's for you and your brother." Eragon looked up at Garrow for one moment, and then dove for the food. Heavenly aromas drifted to him. Tartness exploded across his tongue as he popped a cranberry in his mouth.

He heard Roran start in on the banquet with just as much eagerness as he. Tearing a turkey leg from its body, he took a huge bite. "Shank you!" He yelled at Garrow brightly, his mouth still crammed with delicious dark meat. Knocking back a mug of steaming coffee, well laced with honey, he rose and seized his uncle in a massive embrace.

Turning quickly back to the food, he noticed goat cheese featured prominently in all the dairy products, as well as plenty of things that they grew on the farm.

Eragon's eyes widened as he realized that Garrow had been stockpiling all the things that Eragon and Roran had estimated had gone missing. "Noticed the ingredients?" Garrow asked wryly. Roran gasped in amazement as he too realized what had just come to Eragon's attention. Turning back to their uncle, the boys chuckled at his "theft" of his own property.

"No way!" Roran cried. "Well, actually, there is a way, as I just demonstrated." Garrow responded dryly, settling into an ornate chair. "Just wait until you see dessert." He advised them, taking reasonable bites of cornbread. Eragon returned to his rich tomato basil soup.

A few minutes later, the meal was devastated, though plenty of food remained, and all three men were leaning back, patting their stomachs.

"And now, just in case you lot don't have diabetes yet, have some apple spice cake!" Garrow said, rising. Roran followed his father closely, as did Eragon. Whipping a washcloth from over a Dutch oven, a steaming apple spice cake melted any reserve Garrow, Eragon, or Roran may have had.

Seizing forks, they began tearing chunks out of the dessert straight from the oven.

It wasn't long before the all staggered back to the table, sighing contentedly. Garrow muttered "Good night" and something that sounded like "Happy Hunger Games"!

Staggering off to his bed, Eragon slammed into the soft comforter and melted into sleep.

**And Now, Part 3 with a Dash of Getting the Living Crap Beaten Out of You!**

Eragon woke feeling like he could conquer the world. He remembered that this was tournament day. His confidence wavered a bit.

Defeating the most finely-armed militaries in the world is one thing, he thought, but confronting Galbatorix is entirely another. He shrugged off his worries.

However, once he reached the kitchen, he caught scent of something divine. Dashing towards the table, he found a heaping plate of corned-beef out-of-a-can hash waiting for him.

Seizing a bottle of Tabasco, he sprinkled it liberally on the steaming plate of food, and dug in. He dimly sensed Garrow exuding an amused air, and Roran eating next to him, but for the most part, he focused on breakfast. After a while, he leaned back in the chair and examined the gleaming plate.

"I can feel Mrs. Vega getting sick with our manners." Roran chuckled. Eragon seized his plate and actually licked it clean, yelling "We miss you!" to his Cotillion teacher. Roran broke down into laughter, while Garrow glared disapprovingly at the boy's etiquette.

Rising and rinsing the plate, and then depositing it in the dishwasher, the blue-eyed boy retrieved his longsword from its case. Sliding on a custom shock-absorbing helmet, he donned gut-pads, shin guards, shoulder-pads, and much armor besides, the warrior, confident in his power, roared to the skies and charged to his post!

Garrow shook his head. "Idiot." He muttered, scouring old blood-stains from a knife.

Roran shrugged and jogged after his brother, dreading the moment that he came face-to-face with the entire army of Galbatorix.

**And now, Section 2 of Part 3!**

Lining up in the front lines of the Varden, Roran examined the faces of his opponents. Some were scared. Some were condescending. It would matter little when they all clashed.

He readied his hammer. They were too numerous, and too well-trained for the Varden to defeat without the flag being captured.

Roran swore and spat into the ground. He hated his fate being handed to anyone, regardless of the fact that he trusted Eragon with his life.

Glancing at his soldiers, he saw Balder snarling defiance at the enemy, Mandel, the youngest of the troop, gulping down his anxiety and bile, Katrina grinning at the Empire, unnerving a good number of the troops, Angela, the medic, humming a few Lonely Island songs under her breath.

"Well, Angela, no battle jitters then?"

"And if ya every but a pint for an Irish guy, they're outta con- Oh, of course not. You know, the worst that can happen is Galbatorix slipping a knife between somebody's ribs then beat them with his blade, thus passing it off as a broken neck that killed them, therefore an accident." She replied cheerfully.

"Thanks for the cheer, Angela." Roran muttered dryly.

"Anytime, Stronghammer!" She cried, readying her concoctions of hearty lamb's heart, Gatorade, and cornmeal. Vile, but Roran knew well that it could keep a man on his feet after retching heavily from a cruel blow to the gut. Damn those Twins, he thought, remembering when they turned on the Varden and dealt a harsh strike to Stronghammer's abdomen.

Eragon seized his brother's shoulder. Turning, Roran snapped "What?" his nerves worn thin by battle jitters.

"I just wanted to say, take care of yourself. I wouldn't count on this lot playing fair." He flipped a rude gesture to one of the soldiers. Chuckling, he took his place towards the eastern flank of the battalion.

A large compliment of soldiers would from a shield wall and advance, protecting the assault force consisting of Arya, Raudhr, a few of the more powerful elves, and of course, Eragon and Saphira. The wall would, while making it clear where Eragon and Arya would strike, would conceal their numbers.

While they were covered, Izzy would take the place or Arya, being as they look startlingly similar. Most of the elves would stay behind, as well as Raudhr, while Arya, Eragon, Saphira, and a choice elf named Izlasyta would creep through the forest. They would then approach the far left flank, and infiltrate the fort, slaying any guards and taking the flag.

No doubt, either Galbatorix or Shruikan or both would be present, prepared to shatter any forces.

Luckily, good ol' Galby was an offensive soul (and prone to bar fights), so it was unlikely that he would waste resources assigning large quantities of guards.

And just to top it off, Nasuada ferreted out one of Galbatorix's informants, and fed him information that they would move along the western flank (the left one), but then the attack force would slide around to the eastern flank and begin a five-man surgical strike.

Naturally, this would seem illogical to Galbatorix and something would smell like a rat, but it would generate some amount of doubt, and when Roran began his own surgical strike, no doubt he would immediately validate the information and respond accordingly. But of course, he would realize that Raudhr and Arya (actually Izzy) were still behind the formation, and Ghostie, who was a ventriloquist, would be mimicking Eragon's infamous "FUS-RO-DAH!" cry. Therefore, he would have to deduce that they were trying to confuse him, and become irrational and unpredictable.

At the very least, this would mean that Galbatorix would not become defensive. Rolling his shoulders, Roran prepared for combat.

He would bash a few heads in, and then retreat, move to the eastern flank, and begin a one man Valhalla smash. Lifting his lips in a defiant snarl, he readied his hammer.

Moving his shield to take the fist volley of arrows with limited damage, (The Empire didn't agree with the Varden's policy of one archer.) crouched, tight as a lynx ready to spring, while Galbatorix mounted his makeshift tower and lifted the battle horn to his lips. It came to his mouth; the general drew breath, and blew with all his might.

The surge of soldiers nearly swept Roran off his feet, but as he had recently discovered, they went slower if you bashed whatever was in front of your shield mindlessly, like most problems.

Two arrows struck his shield, bruising the flesh on the other side. Bludgeoning viciously with his shield, Roran stood like a rock in a never-ending stream of soldiers. In that moment, despair gripped Roran, but he responded the way his family always did, and simply struck harder.

As the soldiers began to realize that they were facing Roran Stronghammer, the legendary warrior, and his troop of fierce men from Carvahall, they tightly packed back into rows, raising their shields to the defiant grins of the group.

For a moment, they stood at an impasse, the mighty warriors of Carvahall grinning, and the Empire expressionless.

Suddenly, a man toppled in the ranks of the Empire due to a misfired arrow, and chaos began again as Roran and Balder smashed into the front lines, heedless of their own safety.

A sword bruised Roran's calf, and another laid a smashing blow on his helmet, but still he fought.

As a shin guard cracked, and his helmet hangs askew, he slipped behind his lines and began loping to the eastern flank. "Godspeed, Eragon." He muttered under his breath as he spat into the ground, preparing for the most brutal attack of his life.

**And now, Section 3 of Part 3**

**(Eragon's POV)**

Eragon roared "FUS-RO-DAH! Let none escape!" as he hacked at those who attempted to flank the formation. His soldiers bellowed in response and forced their way into the front lines.

Three men thick, ten men long, the wall pushed inexorably across the battlefield. The vanguard, consisting of Ghostie, Faolin, and Firnen (the infamous freshie), bashed at the soldiers, attempting to keep Eragon and Arya out of sight.

"FOR NARNIA! AND FOR ASLAN!" Eragon cried, hurling a spear into the ribcage of one of the soldiers encroaching on breaking the wall. "Auxilium!" Eragon commanded, (this meant Help! in Latin,) not wanting the enemy to understand.

He turned to Arya. "Now." He whispered, and slipped into the forest.

Izlasyta, being a hunter, treaded after them with velvet feet. Eragon put food on the table by hunting, while Arya was simply naturally graceful. Saphira was exemplary at creeping in shadow, so she of course did just that.

Approaching the castle, Eragon wondered at the architecture. It was constructed from wooden and metal planks forming the walls, and logs dug in supporting them, while Green Briar was strung over the walls and on the ground, making approach difficult.

Ducking under a branch, he surveyed the guards. Nothing much, two well-trained soldiers, but nothing that the group couldn't handle quickly and quietly. The soldiers would not be allowed to make noise after being struck a killing blow, but they could certainly claim that they yelped before the blow was dealt.

Eragon, as such, initialized the fight with a brutal strike to the man on the left's throat, while he was mirrored by Arya on his left. A swift stab to the heart, and the men toppled.

Just as he was about to take a step, Izlasyta seized his shoulder and pointed at a gleam on the ground. Fishing wire, strung taut at shin level. Eragon nodded silent thanks and slipped over the obstruction, walking into the flag room.

Unsurprisingly, Galbatorix was present, sitting quite calmly on a lawn chair. Infinitely more shockingly, Murtagh stood poised to strike in front of his liege lord, a shield on his left arm. "Stand aside, Murtagh. We number four, you number two. To defend him would be folly." Eragon said roughly, moving to sweep Murtagh out of the way.

A shape loomed by his ear and he staggered away, ears ringing. One of Izlasyta's javelins crashed into the warriors shoulder, checking his momentum.

Galbatorix nodded to someone behind Eragon, and two powerful arms descended and began choking both Arya and Izlasyta. Eragon spun around to find Shruikan, towering as ever. "Don't bother fighting him. Steroids work wonders, you know." Galbatorix said matter-of-factly from behind him.

Turning viciously back to Galbatorix, Eragon found that the older man had a switchblade held firmly in his hand. "If you try to do anything, anything at all, you will die. After Saphira, of course. I should hope that you two friends would be wise enough to keep their mouths shut, for fear of not waking up one night, courtesy of the Forsworn." Eragon gulped, considering running, but realized that while Galbatorix would be convicted of murder, Arya would be no more alive for that.

"Alright," he muttered hoarsely, "what do you want?"

Galbatorix chuckled. "Who's to say that I don't just want you dead? You've jumped members of the gang, smashed a bottle of Absolut over my head, you dated a girl I wanted, what can I say? You deserve to die." He pointed out.

"All very nice, Galbatorix, but your logic eludes me. Killing me here would be hard to clean up, and I can't say that bothering you is a mortal sin." Eragon declared, determined to bravo his way to winning.

"Don't bother with the bravo; I can stab a clever man as easily as a defiant one. And why shouldn't I kill you? You're a nobody, and I've got the police paid off, believe you me. The case would be investigated, but then it'd just melt away."

Eragon smirked. "I think you're forgetting that the whole Varden would demand an investigation, and even if you broke my neck, somebody would notice the stab wound afterwards. There would be riots, there would be extensive investigations, and that's not the best thing for such a black-hat fellow as you, now is it?"

Grudgingly, Galbatorix nodded. "Perhaps not," he conceded, "but there is no end to the ways I can have you and your friends' lives end. And I, of course, am in no hurry. A year is a day to a man such as me. And trust me; a year is plenty of time for a house to burn down, animals to escape, an uncle to have a heart attack, that sort of thing. When you have so much, there are so many targets to choose from. But, speculation pisses me off. Let's get to the point, shall we? I want you to lose this battle. Let's just say, bets were placed, and money is money is money. I want to lay down your sword, yelp, and we'll just go with the story that I outclassed you. It doesn't have to be painful. But of course, it can be. It can be more painful that you can imagine."

Eragon considered the proposition. He wasn't the type of person to go along with this, but he wasn't the kind of person to waste Arya's life saving his own pride either.

He was spared the decision, however, by an amazing event.

Before anyone knew what was happening, Murtagh was breaking Galbatorix's arm. In a blur, the blade was in Murtagh's hand, and Galbatorix was slumped against the wall.

Blood dripped from the knife, and Galbatorix looked, just, well, empty, lacking the charisma and wit that marked him in life. The blade fell to the dirt, and Murtagh was violently sick.

The voice everyone least expected to hear boomed with urgency "Everything happened the way you saw until Murtagh broke his arm. He tried to stab you, but Murtagh pushed him and he fell on his own blade. The arm broke when he fell. Understood?" Shruikan demanded.

"Of course." Eragon replied, sliding the blade in between the stiffening fingers of the gang leader.

"NO! GALBATORIX! HE'S DEAD! He, he- Dear Lord save us all, this is- I can't"- Shruikan stuttered suddenly, winking at Eragon to let him know he was acting.

"We lost?" a soldier asked, clearly dumbstruck, thinking this was role playing.

"No, no, Galbatorix, he's- he's- he actually died! He attacked, and then he fell, and- I can't even"- he said, waiting for a soldier to come in.

"MEDIC! NOW!" Eragon roared. "We have a puncture wound! Get me a stretcher and some bandages!" he commanded, though he knew well that the man was dead. A soldier stumbled in the room and sank to his knees when he saw the corpse.

The next few hours were a blur, there were press reporters, police, government officials, Eragon just saw them all as people he had to lie to, to deceive.

There were concerned faces of people he knew, people he longed to confide in, but he kept his swear to Shruikan. Nobody would know. Somewhere in there, he got a kiss from Arya.

It was all a bit hazy, but he was pretty sure she said something like "Braum's. 8:00." Stumbling into his room, he sank onto his bed.

Glancing at his watch, he found it read 7:30. For some reason, he found himself sprinting down the road like a maniac, desperate to reach Braum's by eight.

He wasn't entirely sure if he was sane anymore. He wasn't sure about anything anymore.

He stumbled in the room, bedraggled and panting. Arya handed him a burger. He looked at it, and sank into Arya's arms.

He was sure of one thing, come to think of it.

He was sure beyond any shred of doubt, that he was happy.


End file.
